Dreams come true
by Cracon
Summary: ... in which I let Faberry have sex in situations that somehow involve Disney movies. It's my "I'm destroying your childhood one movie at the time" Disney PWP verse. Contains all stories I've written for this verse so far.
1. Chalk Pavement Pictures

**Title:** Chalk Pavement Pictures  
><strong>Author:<strong> cracon  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17 (I wanted to write smut, OKAY? It's PWP, basically. Don't judge me.)  
><strong>Length:<strong> 2160  
><strong>Pairings  Characters:** Rachel/Quinn  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: none for Glee, if you've never seen Disney's Mary Poppins there might be some spoilers (costumes and minimal plot), though (come on, that movie is nearly 50 years old! I'm sure you've seen it at some point)  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "Well, you slipped and banged your head on the table when you tried to dance with the penguins."  
><strong>AN:** I'm in your childhood memories, destroying them very slowly. One by one. *evil laugh*

* * *

><p>Quinn instantly knows something is off as soon as she wakes up.<p>

Her eyes are still closed but she can feel the sun on her skin, and more or less see it on her closed eyelids, and she is pretty sure that she closed the blinds when she went to bed the evening before. And than there's the fact that there are birds chirping in the vicinity of her head and she hears the mumbling and bumbling of a creek nearby.

So, yes, things are definitely off.

Maybe she should just keep her eyes shut and try to get back to sleep. Maybe this craziness will be gone by the time she wakes up again later.

There's a gentle squeeze on her arm and a warm hand on her cheek and Quinn decides to open her eyes after all.

Her lids flutter open slowly and she almost wants to close them again. The aggressive glare of the sun is blinding her and now she can only see white spots in front of her eyes. The person hovering over her is cast in shadows and she desperately blinks to get her eyes to focus. As soon as they do she sees that it is Rachel, dressed in a white boots with heels and a white, frilly, ankle-length dress with pink and red accents. On her head is a large white hat, secured underneath her chin with a white, silken cloth.

"Are you all right, Quinn?"

Concern is present in her voice and Quinn discovers that she is lying on the dirty ground, instead of her comfy bed. Her head throbs uncomfortably and she reaches up with one hand, only to notice that she has a big bump on the back of her head. She groans in pain but tries to sit up anyway.

"What happened?"

Rachel moves to help Quinn stay upright in her now sitting position. "Well, you slipped and banged your head on the table when you tried to dance with the penguins," she explains nonchalantly.

Quinn looks at her girlfriend as if she has sprouted a second head. "Dance with the penguins?"

Rachel frowns. "You do remember dancing with the penguins, do you not?"

Quinn owlishly blinks and shakes her head as a movement to her left catches her attention and she is eye to beak with four multicoloured cartoon penguins wearing black bow-ties.

"We are terribly sorry about what happened, Quinn," the first penguin starts, the others nodding frantically.

"Terribly sorry. _Just order what you will, there'll be no bill! It's complimentary!_" They exclaim singing in chorus before rushing off.

"Cartoon penguins," Quinn whispers to herself in awe.

Rachel frowns at her girlfriend again. "Are you all right, Quinn?"

She softly takes a pale hand in her own and helps the blonde to get up on her feet again. Quinn sways a bit before she steadies herself. For the first time Quinn notices that she isn't wearing her pyjamas as she originally thought, but white shoes, white pants with azure socks peaking out between her shoes and trousers. She has a white button-down shirt on and a jacket with orange and red vertical stripes over it. The ensemble is perfected with an azure coloured bow-tie around her neck, white gloves and a small straw hat with a striped band on her head, her long blonde hair tucked underneath it.

"These aren't my pyjamas," she states dumbfounded.

Rachel puts a hand on her girlfriend's forehead. "Are you running a fever?"

Quinn quickly bats her hand away. "I'm perfectly all right, thank you very much."

"Aside from the fall you've taken," Rachel retorts nonplussed.

"Apart from that, yeah," Quinn mumbles, rubbing the back of her head, wincing whenever she brushes against the bump.

"All right," Rachel sighs, handing Quinn her cane, "We'll move along than, shall we? Spit spot!"

The blonde once again can only stare at her girlfriend dumbly. "Since when do you have a British accent?"

Rachel scowls. "Are you sure you're perfectly all right?"

"Yes!" Quinn groans and than spares a moment to take a closer look at her surroundings which look like they're out of an old Disney movie. Bright, colourful—and hand drawn. "Although I might be seeing things …" she tapers off, her eyes wide.

"Now don't be silly, Quinn! Let's just move along. And please don't fall again or you might smudge the drawing!" Rachel exclaims and links her left arm with Quinn's right, nudging her along.

"The drawing?" Quinn asks perplexed, looking down at the walkway.

"Yes, Quinn, we jumped into the drawing you drew on the pavement in front of the park. You remember that, do you not?"

"We jumped into a drawing?" Quinn's eyes widen comically and her gaze jumps between the ground and the landscape. "That certainly explains some things …"

"Hmmm, maybe you need something else beside the fresh air to refresh your memory then," Rachel smirks mischievously and leads her girlfriend off course and presses her against the backside of a big tree, hiding them from view.

"What do you—"

But Quinn cannot finish her sentence, Rachel's lips silencing her effectively. Quinn sighs into the kiss, closing her eyes to keep the technicolour world outside of her head, every single one of her senses zeroing in on Rachel. Her arms are flailing before she moves one hand to rest on her girlfriend's hip, the other one travelling upwards to free Rachel of the irritating hat that just keeps bumping against her own. She slides the silky cloth away and throws the accessory away, along with her own, both of their long locks spilling freely now, her cane and Rachel's umbrella long forgotten on the ground somewhere next to them.

Quinn tangles her hand in Rachel's hair, pulling her even nearer and swipes at the brunette's bottom lip with her tongue, coaxing her to open her mouth.

Rachel happily complies and her fingers swiftly begin to unbutton Quinn's striped jacket before they move to work on the buttons of her white shirt.

Quinn slides her hands to her girlfriend's back, tugging at the dress. She forces herself away from Rachel's tantalizing lips and kisses along her jawline, towards her ear.

"How do I open it?" She husks, biting on a tan earlobe, soothing it with her tongue afterwards.

Rachel groans and tilts her head away, leaving Quinn ample room to continue the journey of her mouth with small kisses and bites along Rachel's throat.

"Too complicated. Just hike up my skirt."

Quinn almost whines in the crook of her girlfriend's neck, her hands moving to her front to grab the brunette's breasts through the hideous bow on the dress.

"But I want to touch you here!"

Unseen to Quinn Rachel smirks and, having finished with the last of the shirt's buttons, fondles the bra-clad chest of her girlfriend.

"Oh, you mean right here?"

Quinn gasps and Rachel can feel her nipples harden underneath the thin material, her own straining against the harsh material of her dress.

"Yes," Quinn gasps again, desperately clutching at the back of the white monstrosity her girlfriend is wearing once again, trying to find a way to get her girlfriend out of it.

"I promise you can undress me once we'll get out of the painting again," Rachel whispers before both of her hands slide to Quinn's back, opening the bra slowly. Quinn still has on both the jacket and the shirt, so she can't take off the bra completely and it simply hangs from her shoulders.

Before the blonde can complain about the lack of skin her girlfriend is showing, again, Rachel bends down and takes a peaked nipple in her mouth, sucking lightly, teasing its twin with her hand. Quinn groans and weaves her fingers through Rachel's brown hair, pulling her nearer.

"Baby, lose the gloves," Rachel mumbles against her, making goose bumps appear on pale skin. Quinn obeys before burying her hands in the brown mane of her girlfriend once again.

Rachel's right hand sneaks south and grabs the buckle of Quinn's belt, opening it one-handed, as if she does it every day. (She probably does.) She pops the button of the pants and smoothly eases down the zipper.

"Wait," Quinn exclaims, already breathing heavily.

Rachel releases the nipple in her mouth with a soft pop, glancing up to look into the hazel eyes of her girlfriend.

"You don't want to?" She asks, her right hand tickling the fine hairs on Quinn's stomach, the other on her backside, gently kneading the flesh of her girlfriend's ass. "Because I'm quite sure your underpants tell a different story," she husks, dipping her hand down between pale blue panties and the opened trousers.

"No! No no no, I want to! It's just," she softens, tugging at Rachel's skirt before resting her hand on her hip again, "Together?" She asks, her pupils blown with passion, similar to Rachel's.

The brunette smiles and nods. She hikes up her own skirt and takes Quinn's hand, guiding it underneath. Quinn gasps when she discovers that Rachel has forgone underwear.

"Now," Rachel smirks, "Where were we …"

She connects their lips again and dips her right hand underneath her girlfriend's panties, putting light pleasure on her clit and stroking her folds.

Quinn groans and follows her girlfriend's lead, her own hand caressing Rachel before entering her with two fingers. Rachel's breath hitches and she moans, rubbing the blonde's clit a few times before dipping into her with two fingers of her own, a task made incredibly easier by the abundance of wetness. Quinn wrenches her mouth away from Rachel's in favour of oxygen and tilts her head back against the tree trunk, giving her girlfriend room to latch onto her throat.

They stumble a bit before synchronizing their movements, fingers moving in and out in a rhythm only known to the two of them, Rachel's mouth leaving hickeys everywhere she can reach.

Quinn's thumb brushes over the stiff clit of her girlfriend, making her jump.

"Close," Rachel rasps before she ducks her head to suck at one of the nipples in front of her.

"M- Me too," Quinn stutters, picking up the pace of her hand. With a well-placed flick of her thumb and a curl of her fingers she sends her girlfriend over the edge.

"Quinn!" Rachel cries out, her own thumb pressing down on the blonde's clit before she bites down on the hardened nipple in her mouth.

Quinn moans "Rachel!" and throws her head back, miscalculating the distance to the tree trunk. The back of her head hits the tree, exactly where her bump is, and the world around her turns black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Quinn? Quinn! Are you okay? Wake up!"

Quinn groans. Her head hurts, again, but she can feel the softness of a mattress underneath her, so she opens her eyes, blinking rapidly to focus them. Rachel is sitting next to her on the bed in a bathrobe, and Quinn notices that she is naked underneath the covers that Rachel placed over her.

"What happened?"

"Well," Rachel begins, blushing slightly, "We were making out and when you tried to take off my sweater, rather aggressively, I might add, you jerked backwards and hit your head on the headboard of my bed. You blacked out for a few minutes." Rachel gently caresses a pale cheek. "Gave me quite a fright there for a while," she murmurs, pressing a kiss on Quinn's forehead.

"Huh, so that's it? I just dreamed it?"

Rachel frowns at her girlfriend. "What are you talking about?"

Quinn's cheeks tint pink before she continues. "I kinda woke up in a Mary Poppins like scenario, with cartoon penguins and landscape and all. You were dressed as Mary and I was dressed as Bert. And then … we had sex up against a tree," her blush darkens.

Rachel smirks. "I guess it was a very jolly holiday, then."

Quinn hides her face in her hands and sighs. "It's not my fault. We've seen it recently and I've always thought that Julie Andrews was kinda hot in that movie. And you in that dress? Doubly hot. Although I'm still miffed I wasn't able to get you out of it."

"Oh, I didn't let you?"

"No, too many buttons and hook and eyes. I just hiked up your skirt. You were even going commando," Quinn smirks.

"Now that doesn't sound very PG to me, Miss Fabray," Rachel laughs. "I'm almost impressed by the length your brain and subconscious are going to turn even a Disney classic into an adult movie."

"You love that about me," Quinn grins, pulling Rachel nearer by the terrycloth bathrobe, kissing her.

"Amongst other things," Rachel mumbles against Quinn's lips.

"Oh it's a jolly holiday with Rachel, no wonder that it's Rachel that I love!" Quinn singsongs, connecting her lips once again to Rachel's pliant ones, fully intend to accomplish what in her dream they already did. Only horizontally this time.


	2. I heard she's awfully nice

**Title:** I heard she's awfully nice  
><strong>Author:<strong> cracon  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17 (check it out, it's that challenge I've set for myself to write huge amounts of porn and you'll all profit from it)  
><strong>Length:<strong> 3371  
><strong>Pairings  Characters:** Rachel/Quinn  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: none for Glee, if you've never seen Disney's Tarzan (or any film adaptation of it, really) there might be some spoilers (costumes and minimal plot and dialogue), though  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "Is this some weird fetish of yours?" - "It's called role playing."  
><strong>AN:** Well, I suppose this is another part in my PWP verse I shall now call 'Destroying your Childhood'. Title is a quote from the movie. (Referring to Queen Victoria.)

* * *

><p>"You want us to—"<p>

"Yes."

"… And you want us to wear the costumes?"

"That's correct."

"In your backyard."

"Yepp."

"And the old treehouse?"

"Uh huh."

"In the costumes."

"That's right."

"Is this some weird fetish of yours?"

"It's called role playing. Look, I know it's a bit weird but I'll promise to do something you want to do when you promise to do this now."

A sigh. "All right, give me the bag with the costume and I'll get into character."

A grin and a confident purr. "I'll make it worth your while."

XXXXXXXX

Quinn hates the jungle, she grumpily decides, fighting her way through it with her umbrella in front of her. It's far away from London, it's far away from anything she'd dare to call _culture_ or _civilization_, even their camp, and she's lost. She swipes away a sweat soaked lock of blonde hair back under her hat with her free left hand and huffs as she stomps along.

She was excited at first when her dad mentioned going on an expedition to Africa, who wouldn't be? She was thrilled at the possibility of seeing wild animals, especially gorillas. But up until now they had only seen parrots or elephants or some hippos, on a good day. And she loves that she was able to sketch pictures of them in her journal, but these weren't the animals they were here for. The boat was going to be back soon and everything they found so far isn't substantial to warrant another expedition. Her father worked the last thirty years for this, they need results.

Quinn sighs as her canary yellow puffy dress gets stuck on a branch at the hem and rips right open to her hip, the frizzy white petticoat now showing directly.

"Great," she mutters gravely, "It can't get any worse, can it?" As if one cue the sky rumbles and it starts to rain in torrents. "Obviously it can," she sighs.

She decides to rip off the rest of the now destroyed skirt. No sartorial in London would be able to fix it anyway. A shame, really. Her dad bought it for her once.

It's still pouring and the ground she's standing on is getting muddier by the second. It's a miracle she hasn't come across any dangerous wildlife, yet, and normally Mr. Schuester is around to protect her dad and herself with his blunderbuss. She can't remember why she decided to venture out on her own, but maybe now is a good time to leave the soaked through soil and gain higher ground. Perhaps she'll even be able to see the camp from there and make her way back.

Quinn looks around and turns in a circle to make out which of the trees she'd probably be able to climb. She picks one that has a few sturdy looking branches near the ground and begins her ascend. She has gained some way and is now maybe teen feet above the ground when she feels her hands, or more precisely the white gloves she's wearing, begin to slip and she tilts backwards. Her boots aren't able to keep her on the branch she's standing on and the crutch she saw a few feet back is still too far away.

Thoughts of getting a concussion or a serious head injury or simply falling to her death rush through her mind and Quinn closes her eyes, widened with fear, to prepare herself somewhat for the imminent impact.

Instead it never comes. Something, or _someone_, she notices with slight detachment at the puffs of air next to her ear, caught her fall and saved her, although they both tumbled to the ground. Probably Mr. Schuester or her dad.

She stands back up and heaves a sigh, glad she's still alive.

"Thank _God_ you were here," she begins to turn to her saviour, "I'd probably be dead otherwise and—" She stops, only now taking in the person behind her. "You're not my dad," she whispers fearfully.

In front of her stands, no, crouches, a woman, a _girl_, maybe around her own age. Her dark hair is wild and unkempt and her eyes, equally dark and wild, look at her curiously. She's only wearing what could be classified as some kind of makeshift bra and a loincloth, both made probably out of brown leather. She's crouching barefoot in front of Quinn, most of her tan skin streaked with mud.

The girl stands up and Quinn instantly backs away, her back to the tree trunk. The girl is smaller than her, probably a few inches, but judging from her attire she seems to be able to make her way through the jungle without problems. Has probably already done so, for several years. She hasn't uttered a word yet and Quinn begins to question the girl's ability to speak at all.

Suddenly a loud growl can be heard and both of their heads snap to the direction it was coming from. Quinn can't make out a thing, not with the rain and the trees and bushes obscuring her view, but the girl squints, her mouth opening in a snarl. Quinn squeaks when she feels an arm around her mid-rift and suddenly she's lifted in the air, up the tree she originally attempted to try. A few seconds later they're at a big crutch, possibly the same one she saw before, and the brunette deems them out of danger, setting her down. The crutch is big enough to move around, not to make cartwheels or anything, but big enough to stand up and have a few feet of space around her without falling, and it shields them from the rain, so that's a plus.

Quinn scrambles back again, her back hitting the branch with a thump. Just because the girl saved her fall and put her away from whatever it was that growled, doesn't mean she won't kill her next. When it rains, it pours … or something.

The girl turns again, her wet hair flapping against her face with the motion, and crawls towards her. Quinn notices that she crawls on her knuckles instead of her full hands and decides to file that detail away for later. Maybe it'll be relevant to her dad, if she ever gets out of this situation alive, that is.

"Stay back!" Quinn stutters but the other girl is unperturbed by her request, crawling closer. "Don't come any closer, please, don't!" Quinn pleads, putting one boot at the girl's chest to keep her at bay.

The brunette simply looks at the boot and begins to pull it of.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asks with a shudder but begins to giggle when the girl tickles her toes. "Please don't," she gasps, "That tickles! No, get off!"

When the girl begins to lift her petticoat she tries a more direct approach, kicking the girl away with her bare foot. "Get off!" She shrieks but is almost mollified when the smaller girl rubs her throat and chest to sooth the pain from the kick. "Serves you right," Quinn says, petulantly.

"Now, you stay away from me," Quinn orders, sitting sideways now, her knees clutched against her chest with one arm. "Like a very good wild woman. You stay."

The girl crawls closer again. "I'm warning you. My father wouldn't take very kind to you! No, that's close enough!" Undisturbed the girl draws nearer, Quinn's heart rate picking up as a dirty hand caresses one of her flushed cheeks. "How dare you!"

She lifts up her right hand to slap the girl, but the girl catches her by the wrist immediately. Her eyes are set on the white glove that covers pale fingers. She carelessly throws it behind her and puts their palms together, brown eyes sparkling with wonder. She smiles at Quinn and once again closes the space between them, moving to rest her ear on her chest.

"Oh, _oh_, uhm," Quinn stutters, closing her eyes to will the awkward reaction of her body towards the girl's ministrations away. Her dress consists of multiple layers, but somehow she has the feeling that the other girl will be perfectly able to feel _that_. It's the cold and the wetness of the rain, Quinn tries to calm herself, it's absolutely nothing else. Especially not the lithe and toned body of the person in front of her. The girl pulls away with a smirk on her lips, before she puts her hands on both sides of Quinn's head, tugging her slowly to her own chest.

"Oh dear, oh dear oh dear, oh dear" Quinn mumbles. She can feel the heartbeat of the girl when her cheek is squashed against her and … something else. The blonde scrambles away. "Yes, thank you, that's a … lovely heartbeat, very nice," Quinn awkwardly tries to rearrange the mess that is her hair; she probably lost the hat when she fell down earlier.

"Very nice," the brunette copies.

"Ach, thank you. I can't do a think with it in this humidity though. It's—You _**do**_ speak!" Quinn exclaims in surprise. "And all this time I just thought you were this big, well, not so big, wild, quiet, silent person … thing. Haha. Why didn't you tell me? I must say I was rather curious as to who you were, I mean, I'd love to—" she rambles, stopped only by the brunette putting tan fingers over her lips, silencing her effectively.

"Rachel," the brunette suddenly exclaims, pointing to her chest with both fists, looking at her expectantly. Quinn squints, not completely understanding. So the brunette tries again. "Rachel."

"Rachel," Quinn tries, the syllables rolling slowly from her tongue.

The brunette smiles and grunts an affirmative.

"Oh, I see!" Quinn says.

Rachel grins. "Oh, I see!" She points to herself, "Rachel," and then puts her hands on the blonde's shoulders, "Oh, I see!"

"No, no no no," Quinn clears her throat and moves to kneel in front of Rachel. "I'm Quinn."

Rachel copies her, even including the part where she cleared her throat. "No, no no no. I'm Quinn."

"No," Quinn sighs and tries again. "Quinn," she points to herself, and then to Rachel, "Rachel," back to herself, "Quinn."

"Quinn," Rachel whispers dreamily, caressing a soft pale cheek with her hand.

"Exactly," Quinn exhales, her hazel eyes taking in the brunette's features, ending on plump lips.

"Quinn," Rachel whispers again as she closes the distance between them, their lips meeting in a firm yet chaste kiss. The blonde closes her eyes and sighs at the sensation. A small part of her brain tries to tell her that this isn't exactly what you do with random, wild girls you find in the jungle. But the other part, much bigger, the part that likes the soft feeling of Rachel's lips on her own, counters, that she'd never be able to act on her feelings in London. She may not get killed for it, but probably thrown into jail. Or forced to marry a man she doesn't love. Probably Lord Evans, he has courted her for a while now and her father is rather fond of him. Her father. He certainly wouldn't approve. They've gotten closer, ever since her mother died, but he'd definitely never allow it.

But here, in the jungle? No one will ever know.

It's not like the girl, Rachel, is going to run to her father and blab about this. This might be her only chance to figure out these confusing feelings she had ever since she caught her two roommates in boarding school, Brittany and Santana, kissing in an almost hidden alcove. No, she decides resolutely, she's going to make every second of this count.

Rachel growls low in her throat and daringly swipes her tongue across Quinn's bottom lip. The blonde moans and grants access, their tongues meeting in an exquisite dance. Quinn embarrassingly admits to herself that she's getting wetter by the second, it's definitely not because of the rain, and that a proper young English lady probably shouldn't behave that way. But when Rachel bites on her lower lip and soothes the sting with her tongue, she moans loudly, her hands clutching bare shoulders, pulling the smaller girl nearer.

Yes, Quinn enjoys this. She enjoys Rachel kissing and nipping her way along her jaw line, she enjoys Rachel nibbling on her earlobe and she enjoys Rachel kissing, sucking and biting her way along her throat. She enjoys Rachel leaving what seems to be an enormous hickey on her pulse point and she shivers when the brunette forcefully rips her blouse in half.

When Rachel roughly palms her breasts over her bra, she thinks that _maybe_ this is going a bit fast. She pushes the smaller girl away half-heartedly, chuckling awkwardly.

"Look, Rachel, I'm glad you saved me and all, but maybe—"

Rachel surges forward, their lips connecting again and the rest of Quinn's sentence is muffled. The blonde wants to try again, but is thoroughly distracted when Rachel's small hands slip inside the cups of her bra, fondling her breasts. The girl seems to get tired of the constricted movement the garment allows her to make, though. So she gently slides away the ruined, lose hanging blouse and then tries to open the bra. An attempt that proves to be rather fruitless, judging by the clutching and clawing at her back, Quinn muses.

Rachel growls and spins her around, taking a closer look at the mechanism that holds it together. When she works out the clasp the pale pink garment is off in seconds and Quinn is now entirely topless, her bare back facing Rachel.

Quinn shudders when Rachel sweeps her blonde hair over one shoulder and traces along her spine, caressing each bump with her fingers. Smooth palms slide around her waist and back up again over her stomach, the muscles quivering in anticipation of what is to come, and to her breasts, fondling the hardened nipples. Quinn moans and leans backwards, her back resting against Rachel's front, leaning her head to the side, offering her neck and throat to the smaller girl. Rachel latches on to it, biting and sucking, her hands gently squeezing pale breasts.

Quinn is almost distracted enough by Rachel's mouth and her low growls, at the tongue lapping at the place where her should meets her neck, that she doesn't notice one small hand sneaking downwards, under her last two remaining pieces of clothing. It slips underneath both the petticoat and her underpants and cups her sex.

Quinn gasps and sags even more into Rachel when nimble fingers stroke along her folds, spreading the wetness and pressing down on the little bundle of nerves.

The blonde groans disappointedly when the brunette pulls out her hand. Apparently Rachel deems both garments annoying and desperately tries to open it, resolving to ripping the petticoat apart when she can't open it and the panties, too, when she notices Quinn would actually have to move to take them off.

Quinn's breath hitches, her heart hammering in her chest at the brute force Rachel displays. And yeah, okay, maybe she's getting even wetter because of it.

Rachel growls contently, eyeing the now completely bare backside of Quinn, dark brown eyes zeroing in on her ass. She reaches out with one hand and grabs it gently, her right hand returning to its previous place and her chin leaning on Quinn's right shoulder, back to nibbling on a pale throat. Goosebumps arise on the blonde's arms and she reaches behind her, cupping the back of Rachel's head and pulls her into a kiss. Rachel continues the stroking with her right and her left keeps wandering around aimlessly over every part of Quinn's body she can reach.

Quinn gasps when slim fingers slip lower, poised to enter her. Rachel hums and presses against her shoulder blades with her free hand, motioning her to bend over slightly. As soon as her hands touch the branch underneath her, Rachel is draping herself over her, her free, tan hand resting next to Quinn's. Rachel sighs, pleased, and places kisses along a pale neck and shoulder blades before she slides her fingers in Quinn's centre.

The blonde sucks in a breath and releases it with a moan, Rachel's fingers slowly gliding in and out of her.

Somewhere along the way Rachel seems to have decided that even her two pieces of clothes are too much and she lightly leans back again, getting rid of her bra and the loincloth, never once stumbling in the rhythm she has set.

Quinn groans when she feels Rachel's bare chest on her lower back, the erect nipples teasing the soft skin on her way upwards, kisses placed along her spine. A temporary feeling of emptiness settles over her when Rachel's fingers slide out of her, again, but she's quickly overcome with surprise when the brunette enters her with something else.

Quinn grunts low in her throat and the fantasy she has tried to keep up in front of her eyes comes crashing down around her, unable to keep up with the pace her girlfriend has set with the strap-on buried inside her.

The blanket they had placed on the floor of Rachel's old tree house earlier is rough-textured and giving her rug burn on her knees, but it's better than the wooden floorboards. It's still raining outside and slowly turning dark, she notices with slight detachment. She can see the fixture of the rope-ladder she 'fell' from earlier at the door and her ruined costume next to it, the fake leather of Rachel's on top of it.

Rachel groans, canting her hips and hits _that spot_ and Quinn gasps, deciding that admiring the scenery and her surroundings is better left for another time.

Rachel is kneeing behind her, between Quinn's legs, her hands firmly grabbing her hips, guiding her. With the speed her girlfriend has going Quinn is sure she isn't able to last that much longer. Seeing Rachel in the revealing costume, the foreplay and Rachel man-handling her had her pretty much worked up already.

Judging by Rachel's own grunts and moans her girlfriend isn't that far behind. Quinn kneels back carefully, Rachel adjusting her angle, and reaches around to pull Rachel nearer to kiss her, their lips meeting fervently, albeit a little sloppily. Quinn's other hand grabs the brunette's ass to pull her against her with even more vigour. Rachel sneaks one hand around to Quinn's front again and presses down on her clit, determined to make her come first.

And when Rachel wrenches her mouth away to bite down on where Quinn's shoulder meets her neck, pinching the small bundle of nerves simultaneously, Quinn screws her eyes shut, her mouth opened in a silent moan as her orgasm rips through her. Her muscles grab the silicone inside of her firmly and she pushes back against Rachel, even as she sags forward on her forearms. Rachel groans breathily and is send over the edge with another couple of well placed thrusts, moaning quietly.

She flops forwards, not in control of her body anymore, and lands on Quinn's back, prompting them both to grunt.

A few minutes pass in which they both try to regain their breath, Rachel still buried inside Quinn.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Rachel asks, tracing lazy patterns with one hand on Quinn's left shoulder blade, placing small kisses next to them.

"No," Quinn answers. "Although it sounded pretty weird at first—"

"Oh please, you had the Disney movie sex dreams, first. I just decided to make them reality."

"—and I'm still surprised you managed to do so well in a role that didn't permit you to speak constantly," Quinn ends, smirking.

"I have many skills. And I'm known to be quiet on occasion," Rachel mumbles.

"Uh huh, 'on occasion'. I'll mark it in my calendar."

The brunette giggles and kisses the back of her girlfriends head.

"Nice costume, though," Quinn murmurs, already half asleep. "Especially what was beneath it."

Rachel hums. "I decided to improvise a little, since I only had two pieces."

"I approve."

They're silent again for a little while.

"So, which Disney movie will we ruin next?"


	3. True that she's no Prince Charming

**Title:** True that she's no Prince Charming  
><strong>Author:<strong> cracon  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17  
><strong>Length:<strong> 10779  
><strong>Pairings  Characters:** Rachel/Quinn, cameos of various others  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: everything up to and including Glee S02E16 "Original Song" is fair game as well as Disney's Beauty and the Beast (the 1991 movie)  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "There are two options, Evans," Quinn hisses at him, "One: You'll play the happy teacup and let me kiss my princess or Two: The newly appointed teacup will die a very sudden, untimely death, falling from the cupboard _**and**_ I will kiss my princess."  
><strong>AN:** Third in my "I'm destroying your childhood one Disney movie at the time" PWP verse, although it's kinda different compared to the others. I hope you won't mind and like it anyway. I've never seen the Disney musical (mea culpa), so everything is based on the movie. (And did you know the Beast's real name is Prince Adam? Totally disappointing.) And let's just pretend that Kurt is back at McKinley, okay? Okay. And Blaine is there as well. Just a heads up. ;P

* * *

><p>"Great news, guys!" Will exclaims happily as he enters the choir room, the New Direction kids sitting in various forms of relaxation on their chairs, Rachel's head resting on her girlfriend's shoulder. "Principal Figgins wants us to perform the school musical!"<p>

"Even after everything that happened with Rocky Horror?" Tina asks pensively, nervously threading her fingers through her hair.

Will frowns. "Well, I admit that got a bit out of hand. But this musical will be totally PG-rated. Nothing bad will happen this time around! No risqué scenes to cut and lyrics to change. Family friendly all the way."

"What's it going to be, Mister Schue?" Mercedes asks, leaning back in her chair, leaving the two front legs of it hanging in the air.

"I'm glad you asked," Will says, grinning broadly. "We'll be doing our very own version of Disney's Beauty and the Beast!"

Just as expected Rachel and Kurt are the first ones to squeal and show their delight with loud clapping while the rest of the kids have facial expressions that range from indifference to 'Beauty and the what now?'.

"Come on, guys, show some more enthusiasm! We'll start assigning the roles ASAP! We don't have that much time; after all, the musical is set to premiere at the end of the month."

"I'll be Belle!" Rachel shouts and Quinn winces, wondering for a second if her eardrums were just ruptured by the sheer force of the sound wave or the giddiness of her girlfriend.

"That's what I was thinking." Will smiles, writing her name down in his notes. "Does anyone else already have a role they want to play in mind?"

XXXXXXXXX

At the end of their first session all roles have been assigned and the sheet music has been handed out.

Rachel is, of course, playing Belle. Gaston will be played by Puck and Le Fou by Finn. (Quinn thinks that their roles are hilariously fitting. Basically, they both get to be themselves on stage. Puck as the pompous prick and Finn as the brainless baboon.) Mercedes volunteered to be Ms. Potts. Kurt is going to be Cogsworth and Santana Lumiére (a fierce combination, Quinn is pretty sure of it). Mike will be Monsieur D'Arque, the owner of the loony bin. (He was actually delighted to play such a twisted character after his parents forbade him to play Frank-N-Furter.) Tina's role is Madame De la Grande Bouche, the talking wardrobe. Artie is going to play Belle's father Maurice and Brittany and Blaine are going to be two featherdusters. Lauren is going to narrate the beginning and will be their prompter throughout the musical. (Just in case.) The AV club will help them with the effects and the props and scenery will be magnificent, since the Glee club got all the Cheerios funding a few months back.

Quinn loves that they've grown all so much in their nearly two years together that no one threw a hissy fit when they only got a smaller role. Or just flat-out said that musicals are stupid (they stared at Lauren for nearly five minutes when she remained silent and didn't object until she just shrugged and monotonously offered an "I like the old Disney movies, nothing wrong with that").

The only thing she doesn't like?

The fact that Sam Evans is going to play the Beast and she herself is going to be Chip, the teacup.

Now, Quinn has no issues with being a fancy piece of dinnerware or that Mercedes is going to play her mother or that she'll be playing a child. Or that the role is originally male. (In this case she should've have issues with the some of the roles of her friends as well. But she doesn't, really. She thinks Santana will be hilarious as Lumiére, together with Kurt as Cogsworth. And Blaine in a slightly altered French maid costume will be highly entertaining, as well as Kurt's reaction to it.)

But Sam Evans kissing her girlfriend, even if it's just going to be at the end of the play, even if it's just pretend?

No fucking way.

A plan is already forming in her mind on how she's going to … persuade the blonde boy, very nicely of course, to switch their roles.

She'll practise the role of the Beast and Chip secretly with Sam, additional to the normal rehearsals. The issue of their different heights is slightly evened out with the outfit the Beast (and later the Prince) has to wear. She's already taller than Rachel anyway and there's no way to tell that there'll be a girl under the massive amounts of layers her costume will have from the audience's point of view and the rest will be corrected by safety-pins. And then there's the mask, so really, it'll be a cakewalk, she'll just switch Sam's and her role on opening night. What Mister Schuester doesn't know won't hurt him.

It's the teacher's fault anyway, as he was ridiculously hellbent on the male lead being played by a boy. ("Because that's how it's traditionally played," he said. Quinn just rolled her eyes and pointed out that they already did a few things in the club's existence that didn't cater to the traditional gender roles. Things like Mercedes as a very convincing male lead in Rocky Horror or Kurt competing against Rachel for "Defying Gravity". Apparently her very valid points just went right over Schue's head, as usual, when he assigned Sam as the Beast without even letting her audition for the role, leaving a fuming and plotting Quinn in his wake. That was a big mistake.)

Also, it's not like he's going to change the cast in the middle of the musical. Or like he'll be able to, even if he wanted to change the roles back. Her girlfriend will probably be a Grade A diva if he attempted to do that. She'll possibly throw the production in the middle of the performance and perform a perfect trademarked Rachel Berry Diva Storm-Out.

The only obstacle Quinn still has to overcome will be distracting Rachel so that she won't notice that Quinn's working a 'double shift', regarding the roles. But Quinn's confident that she'll be able to make an excuse that her girlfriend won't figure out or might find suspicious and work around her girlfriend's already packed schedule.

Yes, it's a foolproof plan. (Mostly because the fool will be out of the way …)

Quinn almost feels like rubbing her hands together, throwing her head back and laughing manically. Maybe even swirling an imaginary mustache. But considering that her girlfriend is sitting next to her, giggling at whatever it is Kurt just said, she refrains from doing so. (No need to make her look crazier than she already is and let the rest of New Directions know she's actually a huge dork.) Sue Sylvester has definitely rubbed off on her. Quinn shudders at the thought and resigns herself to chuckling lightly, only grinning at Rachel when she looks at her quizzically, kissing her softly on the cheek to placate her.

XXXXXXX

"Guys, great news! We're sold out!" Will tells them excitedly at their dress rehearsal. He is met by various whoops and hollering and some enthusiastic whistling.

"Are you still sure you want to do this?" Sam mutters, leaning towards Quinn in her teacup costume. He gulps when he sees her glare.

"There are two options, Evans," Quinn hisses at him, "One: You'll play the happy teacup and let me kiss my princess or Two: The newly appointed teacup will die a very sudden, untimely death, falling from the cupboard _**and**_ I will kiss my princess. Trust me when I say I can make it look like an accident. I learned from the best."

Sam's eyes widen in horror and he nods frantically, his bottle-blonde bangs whipping back and forth. "I'll be a wonderful, convincing teacup. After all, I've learned from the best teacup there is!"

They're both distracted when Kurt and Rachel yell "Everybody loves Disney!" in unison, high-fiving each other and Quinn is left staring lovingly at her dorky girlfriend. They're quite the pair.

XXXXXXX

It's opening night and the house is packed (Brittany already checked, peeking through the curtains. Rachel panicked, whisper-shouting at her that the audience will see her and Santana told Rachel to relax before she drowns Belle in the prop fountain of their first scene). The whole kids of New Directions, minus Lauren, are standing backstage, waiting for their cue. Quinn is in her Villager #4 costume. Both her character's and Sam's entrance on stage are later in the musical, so all of them who do not have to be on stage all the time, like Mike who she can see out of the corner of her eyes, desperately trying to rearrange the brown wig on his head, double up as whatever is needed at the time. It's not like they have elaborate Broadway costumes that require an entourage of people to put on, anyway. There is still enough time to give her girlfriend a kiss for good luck in the costume Quinn is supposed to be in and then change some time afterwards, leaving Rachel none the wiser of the things happening backstage.

They hear the orchestra and the piano warm up and begin to play the characteristic instrumental overture and see the back story of the movie the AV club projects on the curtain. They hear the microphone spring to life and Lauren's, surprisingly adequate and not at all monotone like in the rehearsals, voice beginning to narrate.

_"Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired the prince was spoiled, selfish and unkind."_

Quinn taps Rachel on the shoulder, making her spin around to face her, her simple blue dress fanning out from the motion before coming to a sudden stop against her legs.

"Break a leg," Quinn whispers, offering her girlfriend a smile and a gentle squeeze on her shoulders.

"I love you," Rachel beams at her, reaching up to link her hands behind Quinn's neck.

"I love you, too," Quinn replies softly before leaning down, pushing the headset microphones out of their way and giving Rachel a chaste kiss.

"So frickin' charming," Santana scoffs, making a gagging sound as she passes by behind them. Startlingly enough it's Rachel who flips her off, making Brittany giggle at the dumbfounded expression that now graces Santana's face.

_"But then, one winter's night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance the prince sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within."_

They lean their foreheads together when they end their kiss to breathe again.

"You'll be wonderful as Belle," Quinn murmurs, softly stroking tan cheeks with both of her hands.

"And you'll be breathtaking as Villager #4 and Chip the Teacup," Rachel chuckles, lightly scratching the back of Quinn's neck, making her shudder.

"I'm not opposed to end this musical right now if the two of you offer a free show on stage," Puck leers, standing next to them in his costume (red shirt, dark pants and boots and a black wig in a loose ponytail on his head, a bow and quiver hanging over his shoulder), wiggling his eyebrows.

_"And when he dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart and as punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form the beast concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world."_

"I'm glad to see some things just don't change," Rachel sighs, pulling away from Quinn and straightening out her own dress.

"Well, it's not like Villager #4 or a childlike teacup will get any action with Belle," Puck scoffs, flexing his arms, showing off his biceps. "Gaston kinda does."

Quinn rolls her eyes and pecks Rachel once one the lips and then on her forehead. "Knock 'em dead!" She grins.

Rachel chuckles. "But not really. I know," she answers before turning around and motioning for Quinn to turn on the battery pack of her microphone that rests securely at the small of her back.

_"The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return, by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"_

The curtain rises and it's now Rachel's cue to wander on stage and sing, swinging a wicker basket in her hands.

_"Little town, such a quiet village, every day like the one before …"_

Quinn waits backstage; her eyes following every move of her girlfriend, until she has to go on stage herself as part of the village crowd, just after Belle has left the bookstore and sits down at the fountain, opening the worn out book at a random page. Making it look, at least for the audience, that the page isn't so random at all.

_"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favourite part, because, you see … here's where she meets Prince Charming!"_

Both Quinn and Rachel break character for a split-second to look at each other, a smile tugging on Rachel's lips before she continues singing.

_"But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"_

XXXXXXXXXX

It's decided, more or less friendly on Quinn's account, that Sam will be the Beast when it first appears in the scene with Belle's father Maurice, because Rachel will be backstage to observe it, waiting for her next cue, and might be wondering where her girlfriend is. But after that, when Rachel has her 'wedding scene' with Puck and she is going to be on stage all the time until she's in the castle, Sam and Quinn will change costumes. Quinn even offered to throw Sam a bone and acquiesced to buy him a video game of his choice. No need to totally alienate the boy. Maybe he'll be useful in the future if Mister Schue decides once again to go against everything initially New Directions stands for.

Quinn growls when Puck advances a bit too convincingly on Rachel on stage and has to hold back her laughter when her girlfriend very obviously trips Puck, not at all faking it. He falls into the 'pond' and stomps off to the wing at the other side of the stage and Rachel begins to sing again, addressing the audience.

_"Madame Gaston, can't you just see it? Madame Gaston, his little wife? No sir, not me, I guarantee it! I want much more than this provincial life! I want adventure in the great wide somewhere! I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand, I want so much more than they've got planned ..."_

Quinn smiles fondly at her girlfriend, thriving in her role as a Disney character. Belle always was Quinn's favourite of all the Disney princesses, mostly because she can relate to her so well. (Then again, she can identify with the Beast as well. She tries not to dwell too much on that fact.)

Time flies by and it's now nearly time for Quinn's entrance. Belle is sitting in front of her father's cell, clutching his hand. Quinn can see Artie wince.

"Who has done this to you?" Rachel exclaims, latching onto his one arm that peeks through the bars.

"No time to explain!" Artie answers, coughing loudly. "You must go, now!"

Quinn is quietly advancing behind Rachel.

"I won't leave you!" Rachel states again and gasps when Quinn's hand violently clutches her left shoulder and spins her around.

"What are you doing here?" Quinn snarls in a deep voice (that is nowhere near Sam's voice, but rather different than her normal range) before she descends in the shadows again, almost stalking her girlfriend like prey. She can see confusion clouding Rachel's face for a brief moment, before the other girl recovers and resumes her role. Ever the perfect actress, Quinn chuckles to herself. If it was her that was just confronted with the male lead suddenly changing on stage without someone telling her, she'd be totally lost.

"Who's there? Who are you?" Rachel asks, looking frantically around in the shadows and Quinn knows that a part from Belle worriedly searching the stage for the Beast is actually her girlfriend trying to figure out who is playing the role now.

"I'm the master of this castle!" Quinn growls, slowly skirting around the single spotlight on stage but never stepping into it. The boots she wears (with paws attached to them) give her an even bigger height advantage because Rachel is wearing flats and cowering a little. And, just as she predicted, the costume hides her female physique fairly well in the dark. Her hands are in gloves and she has a full mask on her head, her eyes and mouth the only thing visible, barely. (She wears her microphone underneath the mask, so there's no fear that she'll have to muffle her way through the musical.)

"I've come for my father. Please let him out," Rachel begs, sitting back down again in front of the cell door. "Can't you see he's sick?"

"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here," Quinn's voice booms, throwing in a growl for good measure.

"But he could die! Please! I, I do anything!" Rachel pleads.

"There's nothing you can do," Quinn answers, almost defeated and turns away from her, walking around the spotlight once more. "He's my prisoner."

"Oh, there must be some way I can … wait!" Rachel yells, one arm lifting towards the Beast who turns towards her again, growling. "Take me instead."

"You!" Quinn snorts but then stops dead in her tracks, just like the role requires. "You would … take his place?" She asks disbelievingly.

"Belle, no!" Artie screams, rattling the bars. "You don't know what you're doing!"

"If I did, would you let him go?" Rachel carries on loudly, drowning out the cries of her 'father'.

"Yes," Quinn instantly replies, fully turning towards the light, but still not stepping into it. "But you must promise to stay here forever."

Rachel, Belle, contemplates the offer for a moment. "Come into the light."

With a huff Quinn fully steps into the beam of light to reveal herself. Her hazel eyes twinkle and realization dawns in Rachel's own dark brown eyes when she discovers who is now playing the role of the Beast, her male lead. Rachel gasps and scoots back towards the door, both in character and because of the surprise Quinn has sprung on her.

"No, Belle! I won't let you do this!" Artie tries again. But Rachel simply gets up and also steps into the spotlight, her head hung low.

"You have my word."

"Done!" Quinn bellows, walking forward to open the cell with a comically large key, her cloak fluttering behind her, even when her girlfriend is now kneeling on the stage, crying, and she wants nothing more than to comfort her. Damn her girlfriend's ability to cry on the spot.

"No, Belle, listen to me!" Artie begins, wheeling himself to Rachel. "I'm old, I've lived my life!"

Quinn doesn't really care about this, just like the script says, and grabs the handles of Artie's wheelchair, wheeling him offstage.

"Wait!" Rachel cries but it only falls on deaf ears.

"No, please, spare my daughter!" Artie pleads.

"She's no longer your concern," Quinn answers haughtily as they stop in the wing where nobody can see them anymore. "Take him to the village," she orders in her microphone before spinning around, leaving Artie grinning to himself, to get back on stage where Rachel is still crying.

"Master?" Santana, Lumiére, approaches her. She too has finally figured out that it isn't Sam anymore in the costume. It probably kills her to call her 'master' now, the blonde chuckles to herself.

"What?" Quinn snarls at her.

"Since the girl is going to be with us quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more comfortable room," she tries carefully. Quinn growls at her and then proceeds to walk past by her. "Then again, maybe not." She rolls her eyes and walks off stage.

XXXXXXXXX

Judging by the clapping and the hollering they get after each scene the audience either didn't notice that there is now a different person playing the Beast or that they don't know that it's now a girl or they simply don't care. Either way, Quinn is not going to start to be bothered at this moment when one of the big romantic scenes is about to be performed. Kurt and Santana have been hilarious so far in their scenes as Cogsworth and Lumiére and Mercedes killed her scenes as Ms. Potts and Quinn knows that every role that allows Santana to make out with Brittany on stage is considered a good role for the Latina.

Quinn has changed into a "full fur" costume and is now sitting in an empty bathtub in a bathroom stage design on stage. She has a sneaking suspicion they got this part of the costume from the McKinley Titans mascot, at least judging on the smell. She wrinkles her nose underneath her mask and for a second wishes there really was water in the bathtub and Blaine wasn't just pretending to fuzz around her, grooming the fur.

Santana enters and sits down on a stool next to her.

"Tonight is the night!" She exclaims.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Quinn answers hesitantly.

"You don't have time to be timid!" Santana ventures on, pointing to a glowing, wilting rose under a glass bell jar sitting on a small table just a few feet away from them. "You must be bold, daring!"

"Bold, daring!" Quinn repeats, her spine straightening with each word, before she shakes herself to 'get the water out of her fur' and moves to a big mirror, Blaine already waiting with a towel.

"There will be music," Santana continues, miming getting water off of herself with another towel, "Romantic candle light, provided by myself." She walks next to her. "And when the moment is right you confess your love." 'Like you have done so many times before,' goes unsaid between them.

"Yes," Quinn answers, confident.

Yes, she will kiss Rachel and tell her she loves her, like she has so many times before. No problem. No big deal. But when Quinn glances in the mirror and sees the packed auditorium behind her, she suddenly has an epiphany that doesn't exactly have to do with her role. Sure, the whole Glee Club knows they're an item as well as their respective parents. But the whole _**school**_? Quinn's eyes widen in realisation and horror and her back straightens, because she has just now discovered this major kink in her plan. She really should've thought this through beforehand instead of just acting out of sheer jealousy. Confessing her love to Rachel in front of the whole school? Maybe that's the reason Sam was so persistent in his 'Do you really want to do this?' approach. Couldn't he have just said so in the first place?

"I con-, I con- … No, I can't!" Quinn squeaks, her eyes downcast, nervously playing with her fingers. (Quite a feat with the big furry gloves that represent the Beast's paws.)

"You care for the girl, don't you?" Santana replies, one hand gently squeezing Quinn's shoulder and judging by the insistency of her voice, she's speaking both as Lumiére to the Beast and as her best friend to Quinn. Santana could always be awfully perceptive if she wanted to be.

"More than anything," Quinn responds gently.

"Well, you must tell her!" Santana says smugly yet smiles softly at her friend, an 'I've got your back' twinkle in her eyes. Quinn hesitantly smiles back and they both turn to the door when Kurt clears his throat.

"Your lady awaits!" He grins, making a swooping gesture.

The light fades on her part of the stage and the other half is now illuminated, showing Rachel in her room with Tina and Mercedes, complementing her golden dress and talking about the evening activities. They all agreed, back when they were still rehearsing, that it'll be nearly impossible for Sam (and now Quinn as well) to change into the padded blue uniform jacket and the padded dark blue pants so quickly that he (she) can be immediately on stage. So they made a 'split screen', so to speak, giving the Beast enough time to change. Quinn makes a mad dash backstage and changes into her other costume before she has to be back.

The orchestra begins to play and she can see her girlfriend walking down the staircase on the other side of the stage. She feels Santana nudging her forward and she descends the stairs on her own side of the stage as well. They meet in the middle and Quinn bows in front of Rachel, while Rachel curtsies. Quinn stares at her girlfriend, basking in the warmth and love (and maybe a bit of admonishment she knows will take place at a later date) her girlfriend radiates, a smile tugging on both of their lips. For a second Quinn thinks she's about to get lost in those mocha coloured eyes, until the stairs behind them disappearing startles her out of her reverie and the blonde offers her right arm to her girlfriend, all the time barely listening to Mercedes singing "Beauty and the Beast" in the background. They cut the dinner out of the production so they immediately jump towards the ballroom scene.

They stumble their way through the first few steps of the dance. More or less according to script when Belle shows the Beast how to dance properly. Quinn never had the chance to practice dancing with the big boots her costume provides before. So, even if she's slightly angered at her own clumsiness, at least it's convincing for the audience.

Quinn grins when Rachel sighs contently and leans her head down, resting it on her chest, just underneath Quinn's chin and almost laughs when Kurt, Cogsworth, offers her a thumbs up and Santana is close to starting her personal one person Mexican wave.

Quinn smiles fondly down at the top of Rachel's head and for a second envisions that this is almost like the perfect Prom experience. Except for the stuffy costume she herself has to wear.

But then their personal bubble has to burst and the scene has to continue and Belle has to leave, leaving the Beast crushed and heartbroken and the rest of the people living in the castle in despair for their future lives. The wail Quinn has to cry out as the Beast almost feels too real to her own ears.

Shortly after, when Gaston has locked Belle and her father away and led the villagers, the _**mob**_ to the castle, all hell breaks loose on stage. One half of New Directions is dressed as villagers and fighting the other one dressed as the castle inhabitants and in the midst of it all is Rachel, now free again thanks to Sam, trying to get to the higher ground where Quinn is fighting with Puck on the roof tops.

"Were you in love with her, Beast?" Puck yells, "Did you honestly think she'd want you, when she had someone like me?"

Quinn growls and steps out of her hiding place behind a prop gargoyle, swiftly ducking the swing of Puck's prop club. They fake fight some more until it is stale mate with Puck in the advantage.

"It's over, Beast! Belle is mine!" Puck screams, lifting the club over his head when Quinn suddenly springs forward and is now clutching at his costume, holding him over the abyss. … Well, not so much holding seeing as she'll never be able to even lift Puck to his tiptoes, but holding as in 'there is some part of the stage setting that the audience doesn't see and Puck is still standing on'. "Let me go, let me go, please!" Puck begs now, desperately trying to get out of her grasp. "Don't hurt me, I'll do anything! Anything!" He whines. He surely makes a convincing Gaston.

The fake thunderstorm the AV club is making on stage with projections subsides lightly, as well as Quinn's threatening growls. She pulls Puck back towards her on the 'real roof' and throws him down on his knees. "Get out," she whispers harshly.

"Beast!"

Quinn turns around and sees Rachel standing on the balcony one level above her, the wind machine tousling her freed hair.

"Belle," she whispers and climbs her way towards the balcony (on a solid steel ladder attached at balcony, so really, not that much climbing skills required) where Rachel holds out one hand for her to take. "Belle," she whispers again as she holds the small tan hand firmly in her own big gloved one. "You came back." One of Quinn's hands is now making sure that she keeps her grip on the balcony while the other one caresses Rachel's cheek.

Just when they're about to lean in Puck is behind Quinn and rams a fake dagger into her back, making her scream out in agony. Quinn reaches behind her, making him loose his balance and he falls down into the abyss, screaming … landing on a big stack of mats they got from gym class. Rachel is holding fiercely onto Quinn's costume, pulling her back towards the balcony and onto it.

The light dims and Quinn and Rachel quickly make their way to the centre stage where all evidence of fighting has now been cleared. When the light is back fully Quinn is lying on her back, her chest heaving both from the physical exertion and her scripted death. Rachel is draped across her, sobbing. Santana, Kurt and Mercedes are standing next to them, looking crestfallen. The glowing rose is on a small table standing near to them, only one petal left to fall.

"Belle," Quinn whispers, breathing hard, "You came back."

"Of course I came back! I couldn't let them …" Rachel trails off, shaking her head self-deprecatingly, "Oh, this is all my fault." She leans down and hugs Quinn tightly. "If only I've gotten here sooner."

"Maybe," Quinn wheezes, "It's better, it's better this way."

"Don't talk like that!" Rachel admonishes her softly, trying to hold back her tears. "You'll be alright." Quinn coughs. "We're together now, everything's going to be fine, you'll see." Now Quinn really can see tears in the corner of the brown eyes she loves so much.

"At least I got to see you one last time," Quinn whispers, cupping Rachel's cheek with the brunette holding her hand firmly in place. Quinn expels a rather theatrically loud breath and closes her eyes, her muscles loosening, her arm falling loudly on stage next to her, the Beast finally dying.

"No," Rachel whispers harshly, tears quietly flowing down her cheeks, "No! Please! Please, please don't leave me!" Rachel begs and Quinn can't quite figure out if the note of desperation she detects is _really_ there or if she is just imagining things because she _wants_ it to be there. "Please. I love you." Rachel collapses on her chest, knocking the wind out of Quinn and she now tries desperately to breathe as shallow as humanly possible.

Unseen to them the trio standing nearby, all with maybe not so fake tears in their eyes (Santana will later deny this, claiming they were fake all the way) turn to the rose, the last petal slowly falling onto the surface of the table.

Now comes the pivotal moment Sam only could describe to Quinn, since they never even rehearsed that part fully on stage (but the AV club promised him it'd be good, just an unnecessary mess to clean up in rehearsals). Sparkling glitter is falling from above them on stage; the coloured spotlights making an interesting light show as the white spotlights blind the audience. (Accompanied with lots of 'ooooh's and 'aaaaaah's.) White smoke is coming out of some formerly unknown nuzzles on the floor, shielding the transformation process even more. Rachel sits back on her haunches, leaving Quinn enough room to stand up and discard the Beast parts of her costume, leaving her standing barefoot on the stage in dark brown trousers, a white, slightly too big shirt and her burgundy cloak. The mask is taken off and discarded on the heap of the rest of the costume which she throws in the near vicinity of the wings, hoping that one of the others will take it. Her hair is finally loose albeit a bit damp (it's _**warm**_ under that mask) and she uses the few seconds she has left to rearrange the microphone near her mouth. Her palms are sweaty, too, (damn those gloves), so she quickly wipes them on the front of her shirt before she lies back down, tangled in her cloak, her back facing Rachel.

The white spotlights are switched off and the coloured spotlights soon follow, leaving the stage mostly in darkness except for the lights set on the few people left standing on stage and the smoke slowly disappearing into thin air.

When she's sure everyone is able to see again, and the music reaches another crescendo and is therefore her cue to continue, she slowly stands up, admiring her newly gained hands before swiftly turning around, stepping into the single spotlight between Rachel and herself.

"Belle," Quinn whispers, patting on the front of her own shirt in wonder of her new human form as Rachel squints at her. "It's me!" Quinn steps forward and takes both of her girlfriend's hands in her own.

Rachel still doesn't look entirely too convinced and reaches out with one hand, threading her fingers through blonde tresses. When their eyes finally meet and Quinn smiles softly at her, Rachel breaks out in a grin. "It is you!" She exclaims, caressing a pale cheek, mapping her face with her fingers almost reverently as they both lean closer.

Quinn has waited for this moment for weeks. She made sure that there wasn't actual kissing happening in the rehearsal, threatening Sam with menaces to various vital body parts if those froggy lips go anywhere near her girlfriend's face. Those luscious lips belong to her and her alone and the only lips they will be touching will be her own. And if she has to don a lion mask and roar for the next school musical, so be it.

By now the audience must've figured that the Beast/Prince is not a boy but indeed a girl. But since there aren't rotten tomatoes thrown their way the musical was either a spectacular success or they simply don't care enough, except for a select few gasping loudly, only to be shushed into silence by one Sue Sylvester.

Despite Quinn's slight panic, earlier in the act, she now wonders why she even panicked at all. Rachel's eyes are wide and searching her own; she's hesitating, still giving her an out with a 'High School stage kiss', on the corner of her mouth.

What complete and utter nonsense, Quinn thinks to herself, as her own eyes dart from Rachel's to her slightly parted lips and back to her eyes. How could she ever doubt kissing Rachel on stage in front of a bunch of people she doesn't even care about? Almost all of them will think it's just a stage kiss, anyway. The big majority of these people she'll never see again once she graduates. So she leans in.

Their lips meet and Quinn deepens the kiss instantly. The mask was horrendous and it was stuffy underneath and communicating with Rachel with only her eyes was plain torture. And not kissing Rachel for such a prolonged time should be considered a violation of human rights. Well, at least _**her**_ human rights. She buries one of her hands in her girlfriend's hair while the other one grabs her hip, bunching the plain blue dress in her fist and drawing her nearer. She can dimly make out some fireworks going off in the background and Quinn's only thought is how fitting that truly is. Small, tan hands tighten her grip on the front of Quinn's white, baggy shirt and they're both barely able to part when they have to. They're panting when they take in their new surroundings.

The stage is fully illuminated now and the dark and foreboding castle has made way for a bright, friendly, marmoreal chateau in the background.

Santana, Kurt and Mercedes are walking towards them, all of them out of their 'enchanted' costumes.

"Lumiére!" Quinn exclaims to a smiling Santana. "Cogsworth!" Quinn throws one arm over both Kurt's and Santana's shoulder, Mercedes now standing in the middle. "Ms. Potts! Look at us!"

"It is a miracle!" Santana exclaims in the clichéd French accent she had for the whole musical, when the rest of New Directions comes back on stage, all out of their enchanted costumes.

Quinn grabs Rachel's hand and drags her to the wings, since they both have to make one final costume change as the rest of their team mates are already on stage, cleaning up the glitter and talking about the miracle that just happened.

Quinn quickly gets out of the old costume and puts on the normal-sized trousers, the shirt, ascot and the blue jacket in record time. She steps in the boots and pulls a blue scrunchie seemingly out of nowhere to get her hair into a loose ponytail. When she turns towards Rachel she chuckles quietly when she sees her girlfriend having problems with zipping up the golden dress all the way on her own. She steps forward and zips the dress up the rest of the way, placing a kiss on the soft skin just above it.

"You are beautiful," Quinn whispers, covering her microphone with one hand and leaning her head on a bare shoulder, kissing Rachel's cheek, "You know that?"

Rachel hums and spins around, the few loose strands of her hair not hold together by a golden band whipping behind her, pecking her on the lips, one gloved hand (also golden) tracing Quinn's cheekbones, the other covering her own microphone. "And you … look incredibly handsome." Quinn grins. "Now let's get back on stage. But fear not, I definitely have plans for you later."

Quinn's spine tingles and she blushes as Rachel pulls her back on stage.

They dance their ballroom dance one more time, with Santana and Kurt bickering in the background before Brittany latches onto Santana, and Quinn revels in the fact that she gets to kiss Rachel on stage, again, before spinning her around and they resume dancing.

Maybe _this_ is what she wants her Prom to be like. Perhaps she should ask later if they can keep the costumes afterwards …

Quinn is dimly aware of Sam asking Mercedes, Chip asking his mother, "Are they gonna live happily ever after, mommy?" and Mercedes chuckling, "Of course, my dear, of course."

Indeed.

XXXXXXXX

The music fades out and the curtain falls and despite Will Schuester's apprehensions that they're all going to die when he first noticed Quinn on stage as the Beast the audience is giving them a standing ovation. He chooses to ignore the few people that Sue and Becky have to threaten with bodily harm to finally stand up and clap. He just hopes that his cheers are the loudest because he truly underestimated Quinn and her determination.

XXXXXXXX

The last curtain call ends and all Quinn wants is to change back into her sweatpants and a comfy shirt and go home, preferably with Rachel, but it seems like her girlfriend has other plans. When Quinn reaches up to unbutton the blue jacket Rachel stops her and grabs the white ascot, pulling Quinn to their makeshift dressing room.

"Leave it," she orders and gathers their things with her free hand, handing Quinn's bag over to the other girl. "We're going home."

"In our costumes?" Quinn frowns and Rachel hums her agreement. "Why would we …" Quinn trails of as she sees her girlfriend's smirk. "Oh. Oh! I get it."

"I'm glad you do," Rachel laughs and they just barely avoid being ran over by Santana and Brittany on their way to the parking lot, both still in their costumes (and Brittany still has her skimpy _French maid_ costume on, so Quinn really can't blame her best friend).

They make their way back to Rachel's home in record time (Quinn thinks she has never seen somebody drive so fast and yet still don't break any traffic laws in her whole life) and a voice in the back of Quinn's mind is reminding her that Rachel's dads mentioned seeing the musical and going out afterwards. It is Friday, after all.

As soon as Rachel has unlocked the front door, the sparse lighting of the hallway switched on with a flick of her wrist, they step into the house and their bags fall to the floor with a crash; Quinn has Rachel pinned against the now closed wooden door in the blink of an eye. The blonde positively towers over her girlfriend, a feral grin on her lips showing off her white teeth. She's barely able to make out Rachel's eyes in the dimly lit hallway but she feels the short puffs of air against her skin and the goose bumps that rise when she trails her right index finger from her girlfriend's left ear down her throat and cleavage, between her breasts, where she lightly tugs on the soft material of the costume. She hears Rachel shiver in anticipation when she dips her head down, her breath ghosting over her lips.

"Say my name," Quinn whispers, her lips touching Rachel's with every word.

"Quinn," Rachel answers, desperately trying not to moan. Her girlfriend is pressed up against her in nearly all the right places and really, weren't the last two or three hours foreplay enough?

"Not quite." Quinn chuckles and trails her hands down Rachel's sides, grabbing her hips roughly and pulling her nearer, one leg wedged between both of Rachel's, making her girlfriend emit a soft groan as she's further pinned against the door. Quinn kisses her way from the other girl's chin down her jaw line towards her ear. "I said, say my name," Quinn hisses, nibbling on a tan earlobe.

Rachel shudders as she searches her brain for the correct answer. Her blood seems to have fully accumulated somewhere below her neck, probably between her thighs. At least she's fairly certain there's none left in her brain to think clearly. The pressure Quinn's leg is giving her is nice, but not nearly enough. So Rachel decides to take a chance.

"_Beast_."

Quinn growls directly in her ear and Rachel shivers again, squealing when suddenly hands are on the back of her thighs and strong arms are lifting her up. She secures her legs around her girlfriend's waist, crossing her ankles behind her back. Her fingers are linking at the back of Quinn's neck, her thumbs softly stroking the prominent jaw lines on both sides of her face.

Quinn pushes Rachel further against the door and for a second the brunette thinks there'll be a dent shaped like her back there later, plain for everyone, especially her _parents_, to see where Quinn took her. Although she doesn't spare it too much thought anymore when their lips finally meet in a brute kiss, with Quinn occasionally biting down on her lower lip, soothing the sting with her tongue and making Rachel moan into her mouth when her hips undulate and grind into the smaller girl's centre repeatedly.

Rachel almost loses her balance when Quinn unexpectedly eases back and she makes her grip of her legs around the blonde's waist tighten, her hands now sliding down a pale neck to grab one shoulder and the ascot respectively to steady herself.

"What's wrong?" Rachel whispers, her eyes tracing her girlfriend's face worriedly.

"Nothing," Quinn chuckles, placing a peck on the swollen lips in front of her. "I just thought I'd treat my princess to a proper bed, that's all."

Rachel is instantly smitten and smiles at Quinn. "I'd love that. But I don't think I can walk there anymore …" Rachel blushes at her admission and lets her head fall to Quinn's chest to hide her enflamed cheeks. The blonde's ribcage rumbles when she chuckles again and her hands grip the underside of Rachel's thighs with more strength, prompting a sharp intake of breath from the other girl.

"I think I can carry you … it's not that far."

Rachel lets her head fall back to rest on the polished oak behind her, squinting at her girlfriend.

"That's twenty steps up the stairs."

"I know."

"And all together maybe a fifty feet distance from here to my bed."

"Rachel, it's either my attempt to carry you to your room or I'll take you here against the door or the floor. Either way is good with me, but I thought you'd appreciate your bed after all the singing and dancing and acting you've done. It's not like you'll be able to walk afterwards once I'm done with you, too. You might as well lie comfortably on a bed then, naked of course" Quinn ends, wiggling her eyebrows.

Rachel blushes again. "I do appreciate the thought. I just don't want you to throw out your back or dislocate your shoulder, or something."

"You weigh practically nothing. So let's just see how far we'll get, okay?" Quinn smiles, placating her girlfriend with a kiss on her forehead.

Miraculously, at least in Rachel's opinion, Quinn gets them up the twenty steps of the stairs and the altogether nearly fifty feet to her room. She manages to keep her hold on Rachel and still flick the light on with one hand, swiftly closing the door with a kick of her one boot and sets the brunette gently down on the foot of her white four-poster bed.

"Oh my, when did you get so buff?" Rachel giggles and then laughs a full-blown belly laugh when Quinn strikes various clichéd body builder poses in front of her.

"Must be a relict from my Cheerios days, coupled with all the climbing and dancing on stage I did today. And that Beast costume, I swear, that weighs half a ton."

"Poor baby," Rachel coos, once again pulling Quinn nearer by the white ascot.

"Careful. We can't ruin the costumes or Mister Schue and Santana will kill us come Monday if there's even a single ripped seam."

Rachel sighs but nods, loosening her grip on the tie. Judging on the standing ovation they got there might be the possibility of another performance in the near future. Also, Santana worked very hard on those costumes and Rachel certainly doesn't want to anger her …

"Wait a minute, Santana and Brittany left in their costumes, too! If Santana wants to judge us for having sex in our admittedly sexy costumes I will not let that hypocrisy stand when she did so herself!" Rachel bristles, her cheeks now painted red by indignation.

Quinn smiles. "You're right." Her grin instantly turns predatory. "And it goes so well with our Disney theme in the bedroom, too. We don't have to take the costumes off after all," she reasons.

Rachel raises one eyebrow dubiously. "Oh really now?"

Quinn hums, pulling Rachel nearer by the waist. "The only thing that has to go is the underwear. _**Your**_ underwear, to be exact."

Rachel's mouth turns dry immediately when she takes in Quinn's dilated pupils, her irides now a dark green with a few specs of gold swirling in them, and her slightly heavier breathing through her parted lips.

"You've got yourself a deal," Rachel laughs softly and squeals when Quinn playfully shoves her on the bed and she scoots backwards until her head hits the pillows, the blonde slowly crawling on the bed and over her, straddling her waist. Quinn is hovering above her now, one elbow next to Rachel's head, the fingers of her other hand gently sliding along the contours of the dress where it confines her chest; the ceiling lamp is giving her an almost ethereal glow from Rachel's point of view and all the brunette wants is to free those golden tresses, weaving her fingers through the strands and pulling Quinn nearer to taste her addictive lips again. It's been already too long since their kiss against the front door. When Rachel moves her hand to get rid of her girlfriend's hair tie, Quinn slaps her hand away.

"Don't. It's part of the costume," she admonishes Rachel with a mischievous smirk.

Rachel pouts, just short of crossing her arms over her chest like a petulant child. "Can I at least take the gloves off? They were fun for the dancing but they're pretty annoying now."

Quinn grins, raising one eyebrow. "I don't know, can you? Maybe if you ask nicely …"

Rachel huffs beneath her, rolling her eyes. "May I please take off my gloves?"

"Close," Quinn hums, leaning down so that their lips are only separated by a hairbreadth, "But not close enough."

Rachel shivers at the sheer proximity of Quinn. "May I please take off my gloves, my Prince?"

"You may," Quinn whispers and closes the gap between them, both sighing into the kiss.

Rachel raises her arms behind her girlfriend's back and gets rid of her gloves, carelessly throwing them somewhere next to the bed, before grabbing the back of Quinn's neck with one hand, drawing her nearer, the other hand clutching the soft material of the blue jacket on her girlfriend's back while Quinn settles her free hand on Rachel's hip. Rachel pries Quinn's mouth open with a bold swipe of her tongue, both revelling in the unwritten choreography of the other one's tugs and pushes before they have to part for air again some time later. Quinn closes her eyes and rests her forehead against Rachel's, inhaling heavily through her nose while the brunette pants for fresh oxygen, scratching the soft skin at the nape of the blonde's neck with her blunt fingernails

Quinn ends her short break and begins trailing kisses down Rachel's jaw, lightly biting on her earlobe, making the other girl's breath hitch, before she makes her way down her throat, almost able to feel each of the brunette's tracheal rings under her tongue when she arches her head back into the pillows to give her more room. Quinn stops at the base of her throat and begins to nibble at her pulse point, the beat intensifying under her ministrations when she proceeds nibbling and biting and lavishing the now red skin with her tongue, hellbent to leave a very visible mark for everyone to see. (She files the problem of her girlfriend simply wearing a turtleneck away for later.)

Satisfied by the fact that the abused skin is now quickly turning purple Quinn scoots back a bit, straddling Rachel's thighs, and sneaks one hand between her back and the comforter, pulling down the zipper of the dress. She helps her girlfriend to get her arms out of the two flimsy useless silken straps of the costume and slides it down until it bunches at her waist. Rachel is now mostly bare beneath her, safe for a white strapless bra, a vision of smooth, tan skin and toned abs that ripple with every shuddering intake of breath she takes. Her brown hair is fanned out on the pillow beneath her head and the almost reverential glow in her eyes as she looks up at Quinn nearly makes the blonde purr in contentment. But it surely makes her heart burst.

"You know, I did wonder if you even wore a bra at all under that dress."

Rachel rolls her eyes slightly. "It would've been highly unprofessional otherwise. And since I was under the impression that Sam was going to be the Beast when I dressed before the performance, I dressed accordingly."

Quinn hums and decides to drop the topic. One hand glides towards Rachel's back again and she opens the clasp of the bra, carelessly throwing it someplace in the room, before leaning down and peppering Rachel's heaving chest with small kisses and some not so small ones, leaving several angry marks across her chest, carefully avoiding the straining nipples on each side before nuzzling her face in the valley of her breasts, inhaling the scent that is so uniquely her girlfriend.

Rachel has resigned herself to the fact that Quinn wants to leave her own costume relatively intact, so she lightly weaves her fingers in the golden hair that's still in its loose ponytail, scratching her girlfriend's scalp and making her shiver.

Quinn places a few soft kisses between Rachel's breasts before, finally, veering to her right, placing her lips around the nipple and thoroughly lavishes it with her tongue, scraping her teeth along it, biting softly and sucking on it.

Rachel's reaction is immediate. She sucks in a deep breath and tightens her hold on the back of Quinn's skull, pulling her mouth even nearer to her chest. There is a pleasurable throbbing between her legs in the same rhythm as her heartbeat and her hips buck up involuntarily as much as they can, with her girlfriend still pinning her down.

Ever since discovering that Quinn has more or less hijacked their production, the brunette's body has been humming with nervous energy. She wasn't that opposed to fake-kissing Sam on stage, but finding out that her girlfriend must've gone through great lengths to replace him as her male lead nearly made Rachel swoon on stage and in hindsight she's glad that she was allowed to sit down in that scene. Since the prison scene her body has fought an internal battle of either being love struck at the sheer effort her girlfriend made of learning several roles (behind her back) just to be with her or being angry at her because she could've damaged the whole production or just being aroused. In the end a mixture of arousal and being love struck won out. Quinn looks hot in her Prince costume, much more so than Sam in the dress rehearsal did the day before, and Rachel had to fight the strong urge to just take her on stage, yet she loved the way they so perfectly fit together in the last dancing scene, and the way their on stage kisses lasted just a tad longer than maybe was appropriate for a fake kiss.

Rachel moans when Quinn abandons her left breast and moves to her right, seemingly destined to shower it with the same attention. Shortly after the blonde releases her with a soft, barely audible pop and resumes her trail downwards, her hands on both sides of Rachel's waist, massaging her stomach under her thumbs, the rest of her fingers dipping underneath the dress on her backside, before they are confined by the costume again. Quinn nips and licks along the ridges of defined abs, her tongue momentarily dipping into her girlfriend's belly button, before placing a bite next to it, making Rachel hiss in pleasure and gush between her thighs as she's marked again.

Then the bunched up dress really is in the way and Quinn almost pouts, but proceeds to crawl backwards instead, Rachel's arms falling limply to her sides, settling in front of Rachel's feet. She disposes her girlfriend of her yellow slippers and lifts her right leg to rest it on her left shoulder, making the hem of the dress slide down her girlfriend's toned leg towards her hips. She peppers small kisses from the ankle, over the backside of a strong calf and over the soft skin at the inside of her thigh before skipping the juncture and retreating, gently putting the leg down again, repeating the process on the other leg.

Quinn kneels between Rachel's legs now, her hands propped up on both sides of her hips, and takes in her appearance. Rachel's chest is heaving in anticipation and a faint blush is spreading from her face towards her chest, her nipples standing hard in the cool air of the bedroom. Sweat is forming on her forehead and a few loose tendrils of hair have fallen victim to it, now plastered to Rachel's skin over her brows and on her temples. Her eyes are closed, her jaw clenched and her fists and toes are tightening in short intervals. Quinn chuckles and decides not to torture her girlfriend any longer.

Quinn glides her hands upwards Rachel's thighs and hooks her fingers in the waistband of her panties, smoothly pulling them downwards, off her legs and throwing them behind her, letting the, noticeably wet, red and white boy briefs fall on the floor with a dull thump. Quinn lies down and settles between her girlfriend's legs, hoisting them over her shoulders, her arms hooked underneath the backside of her thighs, her pale hands softly stroking the tan skin covering her hipbones.

The blonde finally ducks underneath the golden dress and the white ruffles of the petticoat, softly kissing her way to the apex of toned thighs and places a few kisses on the neatly trimmed hair, wet with desire. She nuzzles it and inhales deeply, taking in the musky smell of her girlfriend and taking in the content feeling in her chest that is there every time she is with Rachel, intensified by the little bubble of privacy she created for herself under the costume. Quinn grins when a firm hand grabs the back of her head over the dress and Rachel whimpers softly. She can only imagine her girlfriend's face now. Eyes scrunched shut and eyebrows drawn up in anticipation, her lips set in a firm line.

Quinn tightens her grip on Rachel's hips and leans forward, licking along the length of her girlfriend. She can hear a muffled moan and a drawn out "Oh god!" somewhere above her and feel Rachel's hips trying to buck in the general direction of her mouth.

The blonde resumes licking, spreading the already abundant wetness provided by Rachel around. Long and broad licks at first, covering the whole length a few more times before switching to short ones, just flicking the tip of her tongue against her clit. Rachel is releasing unintelligible strings of groans and whimpers, probably some pleas mixed in them, but since she has her girlfriend's thighs wrapped around her head, those pleas fall on deaf ears. Quinn writes various words of love, adoration and also possessiveness (she just can't help it) on the stiff nub with her tongue, humming occasionally, making Rachel dig her heels into the soft blue cotton on her back. Quinn can feel her girlfriend's stomach quiver under her fingers and lets one hand slide from her hips underneath her chin, swiftly entering Rachel with her index and middle finger, making her jerk in both surprise and ecstasy. She is slowly pumping in and out, curling the digits every so often on their way out, making the brunette shudder even more when her fingers bump against the rough texture of that one particular spot on her walls. Soon Quinn is hardly able to move her hand anymore, her fingers in a vicious grasp of the muscles surrounding them. Her head hurts a bit from the tight grip of Rachel's thighs around it and the fingers gripping on the back of her skull and the heels digging into Quinn's spine make her back ache.

With a final curl of slender fingers and a firm lick on her clit Rachel comes undone above Quinn with a soft moan of the blonde's name, arching of the bed. Quinn does actually purr in contentment this time and revels in the shudders that wreck her girlfriend's body in aftershock. She slowly extracts her fingers from within Rachel and licks them clean, groaning at the taste of her girlfriend. She lets her head loll to the side to a now limp and relaxed leg resting on her shoulder, placing a soft kiss where thigh meets hip, before hooking her free arm underneath the thigh again, pulling Rachel nearer and diving back in. Rachel is hypersensitive now and Quinn knows it won't take much to make her come again. And boy, does she want to make her girlfriend come again. So she ignores the painful grip Rachel has on her head as she sucks on the stiff bud and pays no attention to Rachel's increasing moans when her tongue switches place with her hand, her right thumb now massaging her clit, her tongue teasing the tender flesh of her entrance a few times before finally plunging in.

Rachel comes with a cry shortly after and it's a sheer delight for Quinn's taste buds, her tongue lapping up everything her girlfriend has to offer. Rachel's legs fall limply off Quinn's shoulders on the bed, but the blonde ignores them, her whole attention set on licking up the juices of her girlfriend, determined to get every last drop. When Rachel tries to get Quinn to move her head away, the rough texture of her tongue almost feeling abusive to her sensitive core now, Quinn growls and tightens the grip of her hands on Rachel's hips. It's almost like trying to steal a bone from a hungry dog.

"Please," Rachel whispers breathlessly, tugging helplessly at the back of Quinn's head, "Please. No more. I can't."

Quinn wants to stay in her happy place longer, even if said happy place is currently under her girlfriend's skirt—maybe even more so because of that fact, but she seems mollified by this and stops, placing a last kiss on short curls and stroking Rachel's hipbones one more time, before leaning back on her knees and surfacing from beneath the dress. Quinn's breath is haggard and rough, just like Rachel's, and the evidence of her girlfriend's arousal is still visible on her chin and lips. A few locks of hair have escaped from the ponytail and are hanging loosely around her flushed face. Rachel gasps at the image in front of her and with almost Herculean strength lifts one arm and pulls Quinn nearer, their lips crashing together. She moans when she tastes herself on her girlfriend's lips and tongue but soon has to end their kiss, both already short of breath from before.

Quinn rolls on her back next to Rachel and the brunette instantly curls into her side, one arm slung over her waist, her chin resting in the crook of her girlfriend's neck. Rachel is still trying to regain her regular breathing so the blonde just places soft kisses on the top of her head and strokes her fingers across a bare forearm.

"You know," Rachel eventually begins, "I thought that _**I**_ was the one who had plans for _**you**_. And now it's been the other way around."

"Can you blame me? Did you even see yourself?" Quinn chuckles. "You look beautiful in that dress. So I decided that the princess gets to go first. After all the hard work that you did today you deserved to relax."

"How considerate of you."

"I know, right."

"But I think you're belittling the fact that you learned two roles and aced a role you had no prior experience in playing at the drop of a hat. It is you who deserves to relax," Rachel states, rolling fully on top of Quinn, kissing her languidly.

"Does this mean you're about to execute your earlier plans now?" Quinn grins, her eyes twinkling.

Rachel laughs. "Most definitely," she says before taking a deep breath and starts singing huskily, wiggling her eyebrows at the same time. "_I can show you the world …_"


	4. Hotter than hot, in a rather good way

**Title:** Hotter than hot, in a rather good way  
><strong>Author:<strong> cracon  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17  
><strong>Length:<strong> 8249  
><strong>Pairings  Characters:** Rachel/Quinn  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: many for Disney's Aladdin, not really any for Glee … except appearance spoilers for Quinn in S02E22 "New York" (what even? I mean the hair cut, people.) and mentioning an event in S02E12 "Silly Love Songs"  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "Your mind is an expert at making up decidedly x-rated scenarios for G-rated movies."  
><strong>AN:** Title is from the opening song of Disney's Aladdin ("Arabian Nights")

* * *

><p>There aren't many instances where Rachel has the possibility to be the big spoon.<p>

Most of the times it's only when Quinn is exhausted. Like, **really** exhausted. "I'm too tired to even open my eyes but I'm not yet asleep" exhausted. Which happens either after a remarkable gruelling Cheerios practise (which happens more often than not, because Sue Sylvester loves terrorising teenagers on a regular basis, it keeps her athletes on their toes and makes them superior to their competition) or spectacular rounds of sex. (And Rachel has enough confidence in her abilities to know that they always have extraordinary sex. She didn't spend hours researching the internet just to slack off in the love making department.) But even then it always ends with Quinn spooning her and not the other way around.

They start off in the middle of the bed, or on the couch with Rachel sandwiched between her girlfriend and the back of the sofa, her front tightly pressed against Quinn's back, an arm slung over her middle and said arm gently held by the blonde; her face hidden somewhere in golden hair and where a pale shoulder meets a slender neck. (Which is now, thankfully, widely accessable from all sides thanks to Quinn's new haircut. It should be considered as an affront against mankind to even think about hiding this delectable neck from view ever again.)

They wake up the next morning somewhere else on the bed (because everybody moves in their sleep) or with Quinn now in the space between the back of the couch and Rachel (and Rachel is still trying to figure out the logistics with that one, because she's pretty sure she should wake up from that), with one of Quinn's arms thrown over Rachel's middle with no intentions of letting go.

Which, okay, you can't really monitor your actions while asleep and cuddling with Quinn is always awesome. But still, Rachel would really like both of their subconsciousnesses to know that she can be in the role of the protector, too. Just because she's smaller than Quinn by a mere five inches doesn't mean she's always "the woman" and Quinn "the man" in this relationship. (And what for a completely archaic perception of relationships, really. If it weren't so socially frowned upon to soliloquize Rachel would give her subconscious a good, stern and loud talking-to.)

Well, these are usually the rare instances in which Rachel can be the big spoon.

Except when Quinn is sick.

When Quinn Fabray is sick she can be incredibly cranky, mostly because of the fact she never seems to get ill and so apparently her brain and the rest of her body use this uncommon occurrence to release all the pent-up crankiness that has accumulated since the last time she got sick, which was probably five years ago or when she was still a baby. (Logically speaking it was when Quinn got mono, but shhhhht, Rachel is on a roll.)

Alas, everything was right again when Rachel almost force-fed her the cold medicine with a funnel because she was just seconds away from taping Quinn's mouth shut otherwise.

She loves her girlfriend, but this crankiness she simply cannot handle. At least not without a proper warning beforehand.

So that's how she finds herself on her bed, more or less leaning against the headboard, with Quinn in her arms, her back snuggled against Rachel's front and her hips between both of her girlfriend's bended knees. The pillows are stacked up behind Rachel and the blanket is almost up to their chins and it is _warm_ under it; amplified by the fact that her girlfriend is sill slightly feverish Rachel almost wishes she had opted to wear a bathing suit and not her pyjamas or simply forgo clothing alltogether.

But still, despite the heat underneath the blanket and being enveloped in her girlfriend's arms Quinn is shivering, so there is nothing else for Rachel to do than thank her own rigorous workout routine and the cupboards in the kitchen that are stacked up with herbal tea and vitamin C, because she'd be sick by now too, if she weren't taking them every day. Or good genetics, whatever.

They agreed on watching a movie before, when Quinn wasn't entirely knocked out by her pain meds and whatnot, and Rachel is only paying attention to Disney's Aladdin flitting around on the LCD screen of her TV with one ear and eye, most of her thoughts still focussed on her sick girlfriend in her arms.

Rachel is placing soft kisses on the top of Quinn's head and the sides of her face in irregular intervals, because even though Quinn was obnoxious earlier doesn't mean Rachel will withhold her love when her girlfriend is sick. Her hands are resting lightly on her stomach, gently rubbing in small circles in an attempt to further calm said stomach down. (She does not want to relive the afternoon where Quinn was practically glued to the toilet, dry heaving into the bowl and the blonde almost proclaimed to marry the porcelain.)

That's when she hears it, perhaps only due to the fact that she just awkwardly placed a kiss on Quinn's collarbone from over her shoulder and her ear was mere millimetres from Quinn's mouth. A moan.

Boy, that would really suck if Quinn were to wake up again. She barely got any sleep last night because of the cold and Rachel _just_ got her to sleep (with the help of the pain meds, but still) and if she's having a nightmare now or getting sick again Rachel feels obligated to wake her up. Rachel squeezes Quinn even closer to herself and intensifies the rubbing with one hand, while the other is sliding up and down one of Quinn's arms, which Rachel now discovers is covered in goosebumps, to warm her up.

The only reaction she gets is a low whimper and a full body shudder.

After a few further attempts to calm her down and Rachel mentally preparing to call a doctor and wondering if nine-one-one is still number one on her speed dial (until she remembers that she had a lengthy discussion with her girlfriend about the importance of keeping the emergency number as her number one, automatically relegating the then grumpy blonde to number two, only to reassure her that she is definitely the number one in her heart) Quinn releases a breathy "Rachel" and suddenly jerks backwards, as much as she can in this position, which causes Rachel's hand on her stomach to accidently graze upwards.

Rachel stills for a second, perplexed, before she smirks mischievously.

She knows exactly what's going on now.

XXXXXXXXX

Quinn is leaning against the stone banister of the wide balcony that stretches out in front of her chambers, sighing and gazing at the stars.

How dare they. How dare her mother, the Queen of Lima, the Grand Vizier William and that pompous Princess Ra'Quel think that they can decide over her life, her future! She is not a price to be won!

Quinn frowns before straightening herself up again and going back inside, lying down on the grand sofa, her loyal companion and pet tiger Brittany at her side.

Quinn releases a wistful sigh. If only her plan to run away had worked a few days back. She could've stayed with the girl she met at the market place, and her pet monkey Santana, and could've been happy for once, free to do what she wants to do and not destined to live with a suitor her mother chooses for her. Sure, if would've been an illegal lifestyle due to the stealing she and the girl would undoubtly had to do to even get a scrap of food, just living from hand to mouth, but still, would that have been such a big price to pay to be finally free from everyone's expectations? To finally not feel … trapped?

Brittany looks up to her from her place on the floor, probably knowing exactly what the blonde is thinking. Sometimes the tiger seems to know everything there is to know about Quinn and is awfully perceptive, more than a tiger should normally be. She would've definitely missed her, if her plan to run away had succeeded, as she is her oldest and only real friend.

Quinn sighs again and shudders when a gush of wind blows into her chambers and moves the curtains in a sweeping arc. It's warm in Lima, most of time, at least by day, but it can be really cold at night and her turquoise ensemble of just an artfully bra-like top and her loose fitting harem pants leave a bit to be desired in the providing warmth department. Most of the time Brittany is sleeping in her bed when her blankets fail to provide enough warmth for her, although more often than not Quinn wishes there was a significant other who could wrap their arms around her at night to keep the cold at bay.

"Princess Quinn?"

Quinn is startled out of her reverie and her head swivels in the general direction of her balcony, Brittany growling next to her.

"Who's there?" Quinn asks, instantly suspicious, and before she is even standing up her tiger is half-way across the room, claws extended, fangs bared, on the prowl and ready to pounce on whoever has intruded on her property and could be deemed a security risk for her mistress.

"It's me, Princess Ra—" A clearing of a throat before the voice continues a tad deeper, "Princess Ra'Quel."

Quinn frowns at the other girl standing at the end of the balcony, still in her white uniform with golden trimming, a cape and a hat that she wore earlier, and clutches the curtains in her hands. "I do not want to see you," she says before turning around and walking back towards her chambers.

"No no, please! Please, Princess! Give me a chance!" Ra'Quel stammers and moves after her, only to hastily retreat back and climb on the banister when Brittany advances on her, growling.

"Just leave me alone," Quinn replies absentmindedly. She really doesn't care much about her suitors, even less when they intrude into her private chambers.

She faintly hears Ra'Quel telling, begging a grumbling Brittany to stay down and decides to take pity on the other girl. She wouldn't want to stay on Brittany's bad side, either. She is dumbfounded, however, when she sees Ra'Quel trying to distract the tiger with her hat and her long brown hair is flowing freely now, eerily reminding her of something. Of some**one**. If only she could remember …

"Wait! Wait," she exclaims, stepping onto the balcony and towards the scene, finally getting Brittany to let up on the other girl. "Do I … know you?" Quinn asks hesitantly.

Ra'Quel looks shellshocked before recovering and quickly putting her hat back on her head.

"Ah, no!" She chuckles and steps down from the banister timidly, still keeping an eye on the tiger. "No."

"You remind me of someone I met in the market place," Quinn ventures on, holding Brittany back by her side.

"The market place?" Ra'Quel exclaims surprised before nonchalantly leaning against the stone banister, "I have servants who go to the market place for me."

Quinn is leaning on Brittany now with one arm, both of them sharing a look that obviously says "I'm not impressed by this girl."

"I even have servants who go to the market place for my servants!" Ra'Quel rambles on. "It couldn't have been me you met," she ends with a wide goofy grin.

"No," Quinn sighs, looking forlornly to her left, "I guess not." It would've been too good to be true if Ra'Quel was actually the girl from the market.

"Ah, Princess Quinn? You're very … punctual."

Quinn whips her head back to the other girl. Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Punctual?"

"Uh uh uh, beautiful!" Ra'Quel hastily corrects herself.

Quinn hums, sharing a meaningful look with Brittany before she straightens up by Brittany's side and saunters towards Ra'Quel, making sure to sway her hips as much as possible. Judging by the look in the other princess' eyes it definitely works.

"I'm rich too, you know."

"Yeah," Ra'Quel husks, grinning cockily, one elbow propped up on the banister.

"The daughter of a Queen," Quinn elaborates, closing the distance between them.

"I know," Ra'Quel replies, obviously checking her out.

"A fine price for any princess to marry," Quinn says predatorily, advancing on her and intruding her personal space.

Ra'Quel leans back, confused by the sudden aggressive display of flirting and shift in Quinn's demeanour. "Ah, right!" she stutters, "A princess like me!"

Quinn grins, placing her left hand on the soft, white and undoubtly expensive material just above Ra'Quel's rapidly thudding heart. "Right, a princess like you," she emphasis each word with a tap of her right index finger first on Ra'Quel's collarbone, then chin and then her nose. "And every other stuffed shirt, swaggering peacock I've met!" She suddenly exclaims and pulls the white hat down over the other girl's face by the violet feather at the front.

"Hey!" Ra'Quel squeaks indignantly.

"Just go and jump off a balcony!" Quinn yells at her as she retreats back into her chambers, fuming. Why can't she just be left alone for once?

"Yeah, right," Ra'Quel mutters to herself.

"What?" Quinn turns on her heels, one of the long, silk curtains in a firm grip in her left hand. The audacity of this girl, backtalking the Queen's daughter!

"Ah, uh," Ra'Quel stammers, "Ah … you're right!" She sighs when Quinn just looks at her, dumbfounded. "You aren't just some price to be won." Quinn shares a confused look with Brittany. "You should be free to make your own choice. I'll go now."

Quinn's eyes widen in horror when Ra'Quel just takes a step forward form the banister and actually jumps over the edge. She didn't mean her previous words quite so literally.

"No!" She yells, reaching forward. She really doesn't need the death of a suitor on her conscience.

"What?" Ra'Quel asks hurriedly, her head popping back up just over the edge of the banister. "What?"

Quinn stares at her, blinking owlishly. "How … how are you doing that?" She asks while stepping forward and bending over to look down where Ra'Quel is—standing, levitating, but in reality is flying on a … rug?

"It's a magic carpet," Ra'Quel explains once she's back in front of Quinn, the carpet hovering above the ground on the same level as Quinn's eyes.

"It's … lovely," Quinn responds, blushing lightly when the carpet reaches out with one tassel and kisses her hand.

"You … uh … you don't wanna go for a ride, do you?" Ra'Quel asks, almost sheepishly when Quinn looks at her sceptically. "We could get out of the palace. See the world."

Well, now she has her attention. "Is it safe?" Quinn asks, inspecting the carpet and gliding her hand over the soft material, tracing the intrinsic purple and gold patterns.

"Sure! Do you trust me?"

Quinn's head whips up to the other girl. She is desperately trying to wrack her brain because she is certain she has heard these words before in a similar context. "What?" She whispers, disbelieving.

Ra'Quel reaches down with one hand, a wide toothy grin on her face. "Do you trust me?"

Quinn hesitates for a second before deciding that she will definitely find out why Ra'Quel seems so familiar on this outing and that staying inside her rooms will lead to nothing but a boring evening, probably spend either embroidering, brushing her hair and going to bed early.

She extends one hand towards that of the other girl. "Yes."

As soon as Ra'Quel has gotten hold of her hand she pulls her up, with a little bit of help from the carpet, and the carpet zooms off. Quinn keeps a firm grib on Ra'Quel's clothes, because a fall from this height would be deadly, she muses, as a look down to the rapidly shrinking Brittany left alone on the balkony and the now ant-like trees in the palace garden proves.

Ra'Quel definitely keeps her promises of showing her a whole new world as they fly over the palace walls and over the rooftops of Lima, the brunette picking up a flower for Quinn somewhere along the way and weaving it in her blonde tresses, before the carpet ascends, up up up through the thick blanket of clouds, where she can see the fullmoon in full display, a truly unbelievable sight.

They fly a bit with a swarm of cranes and Quinn even loses some of her fear and lets go of Ra'Quel, to feel the wind rushing by her and through the space between her fingers, only to clutch at the material of the carpet when it decides to fly a few loopings. When the carpet makes a nose dive and the ground is coming closer far too fast for her liking, she closes her eyes tightly, only for Ra'Quel to murmur a soft "_Don't you dare close your eyes_," in her ears, prying her hands away from her face, her eyes opening just in time again when the carpet expertly slows down over a river and they expertly slalom through the sails of the fishing boats.

They fly along the pyramids and the sphinx, from which she's only heard in stories her mother told her or by eavesdropping on her mother and the merchants and diplomants who were received in audience, and the carpet even manages to catch up with a herd of Arabians, giving her the chance to pet a foal, who doesn't look at all surprised or scared by the fact that a carpet is flying next to it.

Their mode of transportation is even fast enough to get them to Greece where they can see the Akropolis in the distance. When Ra'Quel picks an apple from one of the many trees they fly by and uses a smooth move to show off and give it to Quinn, everything clicks into place and Quinn finally has figured it out.

Their last stop brings them to China, where they sit on a rooftop, witnessing a chinese New Year's celebration.

"It's all so magical," Quinn breathes in awe at everything she saw this evening.

"Yeah," Ra'Quel drawls, her gaze solely on Quinn and not at all on the fireworks above or the dancers in front of them.

Quinn looks at the apple she's still holding in her hands and decides to deliver the coup de grâce to this little charade. "It's a shame Santana had to miss this," she says nonchalantly, keeping her eyes on Ra'Quel.

"Nah, she hates fireworks," Ra'Quel shrugs off, not noticing her slip up. "And she doesn't really like flying, either." Quinn can see the carpet miming a perfect face palm in her periphery. Finally her companion has noticed that her cover is blown. "Ah, that is! Uhm! Oh no," she sighs heavily, her forehead resting against her right palm.

Quinn snatches the hat from her head. "You **are** the girl from the market! I knew it! Why did you lie to me?" She accuses and keeps the hat just out of Ra'Quel's reach when the other girl is grabbing for it.

"Quinn, I'm sorry!"

"Did you think I was stupid?" Quinn answers haughtily.

"No!" Ra'Quel exclaims honestly.

"That I wouldn't figure it out?" She throws the hat in Ra'Quel's lap accusingly.

"No! I … I hoped you wouldn't," she replies dejectedly, her eyes widening in terror when she notices how Quinn could've interpretated that. "No! That was not what I meant!"

"Who are you? Tell me the truth!" Quinn demands, fixing the other girl with a hard stare.

"The truth?" Ra'Quel asks, panicked. Quinn huffs and nods. "The truth, uhm …" Quinn can see her looking to her right, probably hoping to get a hint from the carpet who only offers a tassel in a "Just fess up" gesture. "The truth is I … I … I sometimes dress as a commoner to escape the pressures of palace life!"

The carpet making a faceplant on the rooftop is a dead giveaway for Quinn.

"But I really am a princess!" Ra'Quel reassures.

"Do you really think lying to me a second time will make it better?" Quinn asks the other girl, raising one eyebrow. The girl visibly deflates.

"No," she mutters before heaving a deep sigh.

"No more lying," Quinn pleads when the brunette is taking a deep breath, probably to launch into a lenghty explanation.

"Right. Well, you were right. I am not a princess, I am the girl from the market place," she offers rather anticlimaticly.

Quinn hums. "I figured as much. What's your name? Or is it really Ra'Quel?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, it's Rachel."

Quinn smiles softly at her. "That's a lovely name."

Rachel looks at her sheepishly. "Thanks."

"I'm just a bit confused," Quinn continues, "How did you convince everyone that you're a princess?"

"Oh," Rachel stutters, her eyes frantically flitting from left to right. "If I tell you, it is imperative that you don't tell anyone back in Lima what you're about to see. Not a single soul. You must promise to keep it a secret!"

Behind Rachel the carpet is nodding with just as much fervor to emphasis Rachel's little panic induced speech. "All right," Quinn drawls confused. "I don't know why yet, but I promise."

Rachel exhales slowly before reaching inside her hat, pulling out a polished, generic looking oil lamp. Quinn frowns when the other girl rubs it but quickly leans back when the lamp begins to glow and emits blue smoke.

"You know, Rach, I really don't like being interrupted in my nighttime rou—uh, we're not alone," a big, blue ghostlike figure says, clad in a bathrobe with a curious looking transparent cap on its head, a bath brush with foam on it in one hand and a … peculiar looking duck in the other.

"Genie, meet Princess Quinn. Princess Quinn, meet Genie," Rachel introduces them and the genie instantly loses his bath attire, now floating in front of the girls in his blue glory and his black hair in a meticulous side parting.

"No! Rach! Is that …?" He addresses the girl giddily and squeaks when Rachel nods, enveloping both of them in a bone-crushing hug and lifting them in the air. "Look at you two! You finally told her the truth!" He laughs and sits them back down on the roof.

"Uh, it's nice to meet you, too," Quinn offers and is startled a bit when the genie reaches down, kissing her hand.

"Enchanté!"

Quinn blushes and answers with a soft "Thanks," before the genie addresses Rachel again.

"See, I told you everything would work out just peachy if you tell her the truth," he says, patting the smaller girl on the back, something akin to pride in his voice.

"Right," Rachel smiles, although it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well, I better leave you two lovebirds alone," the genie suddenly proclaims, turning towards Quinn, "It was lovely to make your aquaintance, Princess. I hope we'll see each other again soon."

"Likewise," Quinn smiles and watches fascinated as the genie dissolves into smoke again and vanishes back into the lamp.

"Well, that was certainly something," Quinn muses and Rachel grins.

"Yeah, he can be a bit of a handful, especially when you accidentally interrupt his 'skincare routines' and hairdresser appointments, whatever that is, but he is a great friend. And he's the reason why I'm a princess. Magic."

Quinn hums before rearranging herself on the roof, resting her back against Rachel's front, her head on the other girl's collarbone to continue watching the celebrations. "Aren't you glad you told me the truth now?" She asks, intertwining one hand with Rachel's.

Behind her Rachel sighs deeply before resting her free hand on Quinn's unclothed midriff and pulls her nearer. "Very."

Some time later, when the celebrations have tapered off and they spent most of their time talking and cuddling (cuddling mostly), they fly back towards Lima. As soon as Quinn is safely back on the balcony again, she notices that Rachel is in a pretty subdued mood, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

"What's wrong?" Quinn frowns down at her when the carpet hovers a bit beneath the balcony, prompting her to lean over the banister.

Rachel sighs. "It's just … I guess this is goodbye."

"What? Why?" Quinn asks hurriedly, her face falling at the mere mention of Rachel having to leave her.

"Princess, you're required by law to marry a prince or a princess, not a commoner. And even if the law was tweaked so you could marry a commoner, I'm not even a wealthy one. I'm just a thief. I'm a fraud. We can never be. Without magic, without the genie … I'm nothing," Rachel whispers, her head hung low.

Tears spring to Quinn's eyes because the whole time she was out with Ra'Quel, with Rachel, she's forgotten all about this. For once in her life she could just feel and be herself, without having to think about her mother and her expectations and what Quinn is supposed to do, instead of what she wants to do.

"Please don't go," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "It's just that law that is the problem. I'm sure I can convince my mother to change it when I tell her I have finally chosen a suitor that I deem worthy. And you've already made such a good impression on my mom." She reaches down and grabs Rachel's hand. "I've always only wanted to marry for love. Please, just …" She tapers off when the carpet suddenly hovers upwards and brings the other girl's face near to hers. "Please don't go," she whispers again, her hazel eyes quickly moving from Rachel's brown ones, to her lips and back again a few times.

"We shouldn't," Rachel tries to protest softly before the carpet gives her a gentle shove upwards and their lips connect, surprising them both.

They both sigh into the kiss and Quinn tries to convey every of her emotions she has for the other girl with her lips. They might've only known each other for a short time, including the time before the Princess Ra'Quel act, but she's already feeling so strongly for Rachel and she doesn't see that changing any time soon.

"Please," Quinn pleads again, her forehead resting lightly on Rachel's and her eyes closed. "Give me this night, even if you have to leave in the morning and I can't convince you to stay. Just give me this one night. I couldn't live with the knowledge that I might've had true love within my grasp and let it go, just to live in a marriage with a man I absolutely cannot stand. Just one night, that's all I ask, we don't have to do anything, but please, just one night with you by my side," she begs, clutching the front of Rachel's white shirt in her fists.

Rachel bites down on her lower lip, her eyebrows scrunched together, looking torn. Before she can answer, however, the carpet has already dumped her on the balcony and swooped inside the chambers to take a still sleeping Brittany with it, catching Rachel's hat with the lamp in it on the way out and gliding down towards the palace garden, where Santana is waiting, still in elephant form. All this in a not so successfully disguised subtle attempt to give them total privacy. For whatever they choose to do.

Rachel chuckles awkwardly, staring down at her feet. "Well, looks like my decision has been made for me."

Quinn gingerly takes both of her hands, going backwards to her chambers, pulling Rachel with her. "Please come inside. As I said, we don't have to do anything, we can just talk if you want to. But I don't want you gone from my life so soon again."

Rachel nods, hesitantly, but still, and follows Quinn into her bedroom. Once inside and in front of the bed an awkward silence settles over them, a blush rising in both of their cheeks and Rachel absentmindedly rubs the back of her neck, her eyes flitting all over the room.

Quinn decides to take the initiative and moves toward the head of the bed, discarding her shoes next to it on the ground and climbing on it, reclining against the pillows that are stacked against the headboard. When Rachel is still standing at the foot of the bed, shuffling on her feet, Quinn pats the space next to her and the other girl slowly moves to the other side of the spacious bed, also placing her poulaines next to it, and joins Quinn in the middle, lying down on her back completely.

"This is … a very nice bed," Rachel mumbles, her hands sliding over the smooth silk she is resting on. "I think I have never actually slept in a real bed before."

Quinn raises one eyebrow at Rachel mentioning to sleep in the bed, but chooses not to comment on it. "Have you always been a …" She trails off, taking off the various hairbands that keep her long, blonde hair together and give her something else to focus on. Something else than shedding all her clothes at once and giving herself to the girl currently lying next to her.

"Street rat?" Rachel asks, chuckling when Quinn casts her eyes down, embarrassed, one hand still combing through her tresses before moving to take off her earrings and other jewellery. "I have one or two very distinctive memories of my parents, but I don't …" Rachel tapers off, frowning at the marmoreal ceiling. "I lived with my dad and my uncle but they died in an accident, I think, I can't really remember and no one would tell me when I asked and afterwards I lived with a very strange woman who one day just disappearead. As far as I'm concerned I've pretty much always been an orphan and lived on the street with Santana by my side. It's all I really know," she shrugs, snuggling further into the pillows.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mutters.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like it's your fault anyway. – Boy, I will really miss this bed." Rachel wriggles her body a bit to get more comfortable.

Quinn frowns before moving to the side, straddling Rachel's hips and placing her hands on both sides of her head, her free flowing hair acting as a natural barrier for them against the outer world.

"Please don't talk like you already have to go," she whispers, resting her forehead against Rachel's, her eyes closed. "We have hours until the sun rises again, do you think you could cease to mention anything regarding leaving me until then?"

"I think that can be arranged," Rachel murmurs before leaning up, softly catching Quinn's lips with her own.

It's just a chase moving of lips against lips, at first, until Quinn decides to lie more fully on Rachel, her elbows next to the other girl's head still holding her up somewhat. As soon as their bodies connect, almost from feet to, oh god, _chests_, even with all the layers of clothing seperating them, Quinn gasps and Rachel uses this opportunity, sneaking her tongue into her mouth. At the first touch of the firm muscle against her own, one of them moans into the kiss (Quinn has trouble keeping the many emotions rushing through her apart by now anyway, chances are high it was her own moan) and it makes Quinn shudder, goosebumps appearing all over her skin.

She can feel Rachel reaching upwards, one of her hands resting on her hip, just above the waistband of her pants, her thumb moving in small circles on her hipbone, barely enticing; the other smoothly gliding along the bare skin of her back, probably feeling every muscle jump and twitch underneath her fingertips.

Quinn has to break the kiss at some point and pants, her lungs desperately trying to fill themselves with air once again. Rachel, however, seems not to have any problems like that and keeps on kissing her way along a pale jawline, down to Quinn's ear, where Rachel is gently tugging on her earlobe with her teeth. Quinn can feel her heartbeat speeding up and gasps when the other girl is venturing lower, sucking on the soft skin just behind her ear. A shiver is travelling down Quinn's spine and finally settles as a wild throbbing in her core when Rachel licks a path down her throat to her rapidly thudding pulse at the base where she is latching on, nibbling, biting, soothing the sting over with her tongue only to repeat the cycle again and again, until Quinn is pretty sure she has a hickey there the size of Egypt.

Quinn feels herself gush between her thighs when Rachel moves to the other side of her neck, deadset to repeat her actions, and scrapes her short fingernails down Quinn's bare back from shoulderblade to hip, skipping over the flimsy material of her top with ease on her way. Once Rachel deems her work finished she puts some distance between them, although her eyes keep their mark on the now quickly darkening skin on Quinn's throat, occasionally flicking down to a pale, heaving chest.

Quinn sits back on her knees, trying to regain some control of the situation, although her quivering thighs are a sure sign that whatever little control there was left is now completely gone when Rachel sits up with her, both of her hands kneading the flesh of Quinn's hips through the material of her pants, the pupils of her eyes blown and her gaze set on her breasts, the tip of Rachel's tongue peaking out every once in a while to wet her parted lips.

"Maybe, uh," Quinn starts, her voice husky and low and she feels a shiver going down her spine again when Rachel's eyes snap to hers, only a sliver of dark brown left and she has a feeling that her eyes look the same, only with hazel instead. "Maybe, uh, we could … uhm … less clothing?" Quinn suggests and the heat in her centre intensifies when Rachel releases that cross between a growl and a purr.

Rachel reaches at her neck to open op the clasp that keeps the cape of her ensemble in place, and since it has already bunched up to her waist she is able to discard it with ease, throwing it somewhere next to the bed. Quinn's eyes follow the movements of Rachel's hands to her waist where she is making quick work with the golden cummerbund, throwing it in the general direction to join her cape, finally able to grasp the loosened hem of her uniform top, slowly pulling it upwards.

Quinn's eyes are hooded and her lips are parted, as if she's trying to vent the heat that has suddenly quadrupled in her body by the mere promise of seeing more of that tan skin. She groans when a simple off-white linen undergarment comes into display, shielding Rachel's breasts from her view. With a last tug the top is pulled over Rachel's head and thrown to the side, her long brown hair flowing freely partly down her back and partly over her shoulders, almost reaching her breasts.

"I've never …" Quinn starts but lets the sentence trail off, because she isn't quite sure how to word this exactly. But it doesn't matter, since Rachel catches on quite quickly.

"Me neither," she reassures her and when Rachel's hands go back to their place on Quinn's hips Quinn surges forward at the contact, crushing their lips together again (because it has already been way too long since she tasted those heavenly lips), the momentum sending both of them sprawling back on the mattress.

Quinn's mouth firmly presses against Rachel's, their tongues moving against each other's before Quinn lightly sucks on Rachel's, making the girl sigh in pleasure. Quinn's hands aren't idle and they roam down Rachel's sides, scraping the defined muscles of her stomach with her short fingernails before wandering upwards again, cupping her breasts over her undergarments. Rachel's hips buck up involuntarily and Quinn counters the movement with her own hips pressing down. They both moan and Rachel's hands slip underneath the waistband of her pants, grabbing Quinn's ass and pushing her down again.

Rachel wrenches her mouth away from Quinn's and pants when the blonde is mimicking her earlier actions, leaving hickeys all over Rachel's throat in her wake.

"Maybe," Rachel heaves, "Maybe we could lose the pants as well?"

Her only answer is another sharp bite on her collarbone before Quinn rolls off of her and begins to work on the knotted cloth that is keeping Rachel's off-white pants up. Once the knot is unravelled she reaches forward to pull the pants down, but is stopped by Rachel's hands on her own. Her eyes quickly shoot up towards Rachel's face, fearing that maybe she's gone too fast. But if the heavy breathing and the smoldering look are any indication than that isn't the case. She feels Rachel tug on the waistband of her pants and Quinn, without breaking eye contact, swiftly sheds the clothing and her turquoise top before reaching for Rachel's pants again, finally allowed to pull them off of her.

Her own breathing grows more laboured with every inch of those tan and toned legs revealed before they are freed from the trousers and Quinn carelessly throws the clothing behind her, staring at the vision of an almost naked Rachel lying in front of her through half-lidded eyes. Quinn quickly scrambles back over her and this time around it feels so much better when she lowers herself on Rachel to resume the kissing, because now there is skin touching almost everywhere with the tiny exceptions of both of their undergarments.

Hands are roaming, trying to map every inch of skin in an attempt to commit it to memory. Because if they won't be successful in their attempt to convince the Queen that Rachel is a viable suitor they will never again see each other again. Quinn can feel a sudden urgency pumping through her, fueled by desperation. In some lost corner of her mind she senses that Rachel probably feels this need, too, but right now she is way to occupied with what she feels when her hands slip underneath the linen that confines Rachel's chest.

Rachel gasps but doesn't miss a beat in their kissing when she reaches around Quinn to begin loosening up the strip of soft silk that makes up her top, impatiently unwrapping it. Rachel's breasts rest softly in Quinn's palms and she squeezes them gently before pushing the linen upwards to finally be able to look at them, to _taste_ them. And when she does she feels like she couldn't care less about all the gold in the royal treasury and everything else that makes her a princess, defines her. She would gladly run away with Rachel, again, because she is hooked now and no man will probably be able to live up to what Rachel is making her feel right now.

Quinn's tongue is tracing circles around a stiff nipple before she takes it into her mouth, sucking it, making the other girl writhe underneath her when she gently bites down. Rachel is groaning, her hands buried in golden hair, her fingers weaving through the tresses. A sharp tug at the back of her neck makes Quinn release the breast, instantly missing its feel and taste but her eyes are transfixed on the wetness her mouth left before Rachel is crashing their lips back together again hurriedly. Her tongue is flicking inside Quinn's mouth while both of her hands grab Quinn's ass, pressing her down against Rachel's toned thigh. Quinn moans into the kiss, because when exactly did Rachel sneak her leg between her own? Shivers are running down her spine at the pressure against her core, but when a slender leg hooks around her hip and Quinn's back suddenly hits the mattress she can only squeak.

Rachel is hovering over her now, slightly sitting up to discard her own top before leaning back down, kissing Quinn, her neck, nuzzling the valley between her breasts before finally paying attention to them. She is alternating between them, licking and fondling, all the while still rocking her thigh against Quinn.

Quinn's back is arched and her hands are trying to find purchase on something, anything, before she settles on grabbing Rachel's back, her fingers pressing almost painfully in the firm flesh. Rachel hisses sharply, biting down on Quinn's nipple reflexively prompting pale hips to jerk forward and Quinn to moan loudly.

Rachel leans backwards, her hands on both sides of Quinn's head holding her up. Her eyes are completely dark and her face flushed, the flush even spreading down to her chest. Quinn imagines that she must look the same, judging on the hooded eyes roaming her body. With a determined roll of her hips Rachel is rocking against Quinn again, her own centre sliding against a pale thigh. Quinn's breathing picks up when she feels how warm and _wet_ Rachel is, even through the last piece of cloth seperating them.

She tugs at the undergarment wordlessly and Rachel understands, lifting off her just enough to shed both of their respective clothing, settling in her previous position again. And this time it is infinitely better because, finally, all the barriers are gone and it is just Quinn and Rachel. Quinn's hips buck up and Rachel is answering it with a roll of her own, until they find a rhythm that works for them, sliding and grinding, building up to … something.

A slight sheen of sweat is covering both of them, Quinn's hair is sticking to the side of her face and Rachel's bangs are plastered to her forehead. Rachel's face is buried in the crook of a pale neck, biting and licking at everything in her reach while revelling in their breasts gliding together and their hips rocking against each other, her elbows next to Quinn's head barely holding her up anymore. Quinn's hands are sliding up and down Rachel's back, made even easier by the sweat coating it, grabbing her shoulderblades, waist, that delectable behind and the back of her thighs before repeating it again and again, her short fingernails managing to leave telling scratches on the taut skin.

There is a coiling in the pit of Quinn's stomach that she can't really identify, yet she knows on a subconscious level that she desperately wants it to unravel. Their moans are filling the otherwise silent air around them and Quinn releases a throaty groan, a mixture of pleasure and just being out of reach of this elusive something she desperately wans to get a hold of.

She whispers Rachel's name and the other girl lifts her head, her bottom lip clenched between her teeth, almost drawing blood while her hips resume their undulating movement.

"Not quite enough," Quinn whimpers as she hooks the leg not currently nestling between Rachel's thighs over her tan waist, trying to double her efforts. She can feel the other girl shifting her weight over her, resting solely on her left elbow. Rachel's hand is ghosting over the side of her face now, softly tracing her lips before it ventures lower, along her throat, over her collarbones and down between her breasts, further down over her stomach and her bellybutton to where their hips are thrusting together rapidly.

Rachel's eyes turn impossibly darker as soon as her fingertips glide along soft skin and short curls and Quinn grabs both sides of Rachel's head with her hands, crushing their mouths together to swallow both of their moans when Rachel dips lower, her fingers sliding through wet folds prompting Quinn to almost jump out of her skin when nimble digits brush against a certain spot. When two slender fingers sink inside, curling and thrusting into her in time with Rachel's hips rolling against her own and her palm forcibly slapping against her _there_ every time she bucks her hips, the coiling inside her finally springs free and Quinn comes undone with Rachel's name on her lips.

XXXXXXX

Rachel can feel her wrist cramping up and her fingers are still trapped inside Quinn between her clenched thighs, her own desire flaring up as she feels the aftershocks of her girlfriend's orgasm rippling through her, a pleasant tingling reaching her own spine, originating from her fingertips pressing against the rough texture inside Quinn. Quinn is slumped against her, breathing heavily, her eyes are open but glossed over, her mind probably somewhere in that blissful state between an orgasm-induced high, the disorientation of just being woken up from a deep sleep and being loopy from her cold meds.

Quite a mix.

"Whaaaa?" Quinn slurs a short time later, trying to sort through her thoughts and hormones with little success.

When her thighs, and everything in between, finally relax enough for Rachel to retract her hand, she can feel a shiver travelling down Quinn's spine again and see her nostrils flare up when Rachel brings the hand to her own face, licking her fingers clean and moaning at the taste of her girlfriend on her tongue.

Quinn tilts her head towards her, her eyes narrowed as she takes Rachel in.

"You are not naked," she slurs again, disapprovingly tugging at Rachel's pyjamas before looking down at herself. "I'm not naked," she pouts.

Rachel wets her lips, almost feeling her own eyes darkening. "No, we're not. But we can rectify that, if you like."

Quinn's head falls back against Rachel with a thud, making the brunette wince.

"Where did my chambers go?" Quinn wonders out loud while staring at the wooden ceiling and Rachel raises one eyebrow at her. (Which isn't really as intimidating as when her girlfriend does it with her almost-patended HBIC eyebrow raise, okay, she can admit that, but it's the only reaction she can offer right now because she has no idea what is going on in that pretty head of her girlfriend.)

"Chambers?"

"Yeah," Quinn drawls out, "I have a pet tiger and fancy clothes made out of silk and you—" She suddenly gasps before turning in Rachel's embrace, grabbing the front of her pyjamas forcefully, tugging her nearer and Rachel almost cowers at the ablaze look in her girlfriend's eyes. "You lied to me about being a princess!"

Rachel splutters. "I, what?"

"You wouldn't lie to me about something like that, would you?" Quinn grits out and when the credits of the movie begin to roll in the background everything clicks into place for Rachel.

"Baby," she tries to placate her, "I would never. But tell me. By any chance, did I have a pet monkey? And was a genie there?"

Quinn nods rapidly. "So you admit that you're the girl from the market place?"

Rachel's nose scrunches up and she smiles, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her girlfriend's lips. (Because apparently her subconscious has made her the hero and protector for once, so yay her. But her girlfriend is still sick, so no full-blown make-out session.) "Baby, it was just a dream."

Quinn looks at her, confused. "A dream?"

Rachel hums and nods, her fingers weaving through the short blonde hair, her fingernails scraping over the sensitive skin at the back of Quinn's skull.

Blonde eyebrows are drawn together, her brain obviously still trying to sort out what is reality and not.

"Did I show you a whole new world, baby?" Rachel husks, tugging at the hair on the back of Quinn's neck, her own head already tilting down to nip at the soft skin of her girlfriend's throat.

"Uhuh," Quinn gasps.

"Indescribable feelings? A dazzling place you never knew?" Rachel quotes, before trying to keep from sniggering with her next question. "Did your whole life change when you found the magic carpet?"

"Yes," Quinn hisses when Rachel bites down on her throat and adds another hickey to her expanding collection.

Rachel pulls back slightly, her eyes filled with mirth. "Then I'm sorry to say that you just had another Disney dream."

"Huh?"

"You know, that little indulgence of yours? Your mind is an expert at making up decidedly x-rated scenarios for G-rated movies."

Quinn frowns. "So the sex wasn't real?"

Rachel raises her hand and wiggles her fingers in front of her girlfriend's face. "Oh no, the sex was most definitely real."

Quinn stares at the hand and Rachel is seconds away from taking pity on her girlfriend and convince her to just go back to sleep. But then Quinn is leaning forward, kissing her and cold possible sickness be damned, because she is still aroused from earlier when she watched Quinn come and Rachel is fairly confident she won't get sick anyway. She jumps slightly when a cold hand reaches beneath the waistband of her pyjama pants, venturing lower.

Quinn breaks the kiss, smiling mischievously at her panting girlfriend. "Do you mind if I explore your Cave of Wonders, baby?"

Alas, Rachel can't help but use a last dig on her girlfriend. "You know you're not supposed to touch the forbidden treasure, right?"


	5. Come taste the sunsweet berries

**Title:** Come taste the sunsweet berries of the Earth  
><strong>Author:<strong> cracon  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC17  
><strong>Length:<strong> 4246  
><strong>Pairings  Characters:** Rachel/Quinn  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: some for Disney's Pocahontas (not much, though), none for Glee, I think  
><strong>Summary:<strong> "I'm not doing this with you here."  
><strong>AN:** Title is from the song "Colour of the Wind" from Disney's Pocahontas.

* * *

><p>A halloween costume party.<p>

No, really.

An honest to god halloween costume party.

In January.

Miraculously the whole glee club decided not only to have this madness of a party but also on a theme.

That's how Rachel Berry finds herself dressed as Disney's Pocahontas on said post-post-post-halloween party in Puck's house.

Although she would've loved to be Sleeping Beauty it's not such a big deal for her, really. They all decided to mix things up. Santana threatens to castrate everybody who even looks at her Mulan costume funny. Brittany is dancing through the room as Tiana and Mercedes dons a Rapunzel costume. Mike is the Prince Charming to Tina's wonderful Snow White. Puck's barely there costume and the toy monkey on his shoulder indentify him as Aladdin immediately. Finn wears the incredibly puffy costume of Prince Edward. The only one actually wearing less than Puck is Artie in his Tarzan outfit. Underneath the big hat and the heavy make-up of Captain Jack Sparrow is Sam. Blaine is Prince Eric. And Kurt … Kurt is _Hercules_, and currently flirting with both Prince Eric and Captain Jack Sparrow.

There goes Rachel's childhood.

Again.

So far she hasn't spotted her girlfriend, yet. Which is a pity because Rachel is looking forward to her girlfriend sporting a costume of Ariel and—

A tap on her bare shoulder and a husked "Hey there, beautiful," whispered directly in her right ear makes her shudder and interrupts her thoughts.

Quinn has finally arrived to the party but when Rachel spins around her eyes do not see the costume she was expecting.

"You—You are …" Rachel starts but stops again. This is one of the few instances where her girlfriend caught her completely off guard.

Quinn sheepishly scratches the back of her neck before she straightens the askew helmet on her head.

"Is this okay?" She asks, suddenly insecure. "I know we said that the girls should be one of the many princesses and I know I agreed to it initially but I don't really like Ariel and the rest I like were already taken and you're the only Belle for me," Quinn mumbles, her eyes downcast and her face rapidly reddening.

Rachel smiles at her before cupping her cheeks, prompting her girlfriend to look at her.

"To assort all the girls with the princesses and the boys with the princes was a stupid idea anyway. I think Noah just wanted an excuse to run around shirtless. For what it's worth, I think you make a very handsome John Smith," she ends with a peck on Quinn's lips.

"I'm glad," Quinn whispers, connecting their lips again for a few times before she pulls away. "Because I thought, you know, Mike and Tina have a couple's costume, and I knew that Santana just wanted to look cool and Britt doesn't care about couple's costumes anyway, so … but I wasn't sure …"

"Quinn, it's perfectly fine. You're a dashing John Smith to my Pocahontas."

"Thanks," Quinn mumbles once again. "You make a quite … dashing Pocahontas as well," she continues, her right index finger slowly tracing the rim of the single shoulder strap of Rachel's costume down to Rachel's breasts, tugging the fabric there. "Pretty hot," she smirks.

Rachel opted to not wear the blue necklace because Pocahontas was supposed to marry the man her father approved of with it. Also the few ones she found looked atrocious and not at all like the movie version. And Rachel wasn't keen to spend a huge amount of money on a good looking costume prop for a glee club party. But it's not like her girlfriend minds an unobstructed view of her chest.

Rachel hums. "I'm kinda bummed out that most of you is hidden underneath a helmet and this chest armour thingy, though" she pouts.

"Oh, yeah," Quinn concedes, "It's pretty hot underneath it, too. So if you don't mind, I'd like to take it off later on so that I won't get a heatstroke. On a Halloween party. In January."

"I definitely like that idea," Rachel smirks.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Now it is later and they're drunk.

Because it's a party. Hosted by Puck.

At least they all learned their lesson and won't mix cough syrup with alcohol anymore. And they were clever enough to assign the sleeping arrangements before the drinking.

Well. Okay. They played for it.

And who knew that Rachel was a pro at poker? Quinn sure didn't. But it's not like her intoxicated libido had a problem with her girlfriend winning them some much needed alone time in the guest room.

A room that they didn't have to share with anybody.

A room of one's own.

(Although Virginia Woolf might have had other activities in mind for such a particular room.)

It's not like Rachel planned on having sex after the party, even though somewhere in the back of her mind she probably should've expected it to happen, since Disney seems to be kind of their thing ever since Quinn's Mary Poppins sex dream.

(At this point Rachel cannot watch half of her Disney collection without blushing. And she certainly can't watch most of the movies with her fathers sitting next to her on the couch. A whole childhood ruined just because her girlfriend developed a kink for Disney-themed sex.)

So, it's not like Rachel dressed up specifically with sex in her mind. No. They assigned the costumes in Glee club, for heaven's sake!

And she realises that maybe that was the moment she should've put the kibosh on the whole party.

It's just … the skirt of her Pocahontas costume is naturally short, ending somewhere above her knees, and there's only one shoulder strap that holds the dress up and then there's the easily accessable zipper on the back of the costume …

By the time her brain catches up with what's happening Quinn has already slammed the door shut and locked it, shoved her onto the bed and divested her of her faux-suede dress.

(It's cotton. She's not going to support the slaughtering of animals for a simple Halloween costume. Maybe for the leading role in a Broadway play, very very very begrudgedly, and maybe not even then, but certainly not for a Glee club halloween party costume.)

Quinn is hovering above her, knees resting between Rachel's open legs. She took off her helmet and chest armour a long time ago, claiming they gave her hot flushes, and the only source of light in the guest room, a dim lamp on the bedside table, gives her a positively devilish look. Her pupils are blown, a mix of being in the semi-darkness, the alcohol and her arousal reflecting back to Rachel.

She smirks down at her girlfriend and Rachel feels a shiver going down her spine as well as goosebumps errupting all over her skin.

Quinn lowers her head down, just her head, her face hidden in the crook of Rachel's neck, before she slowly kisses her way upwards on Rachel's throat, stopping just below her ear.

And that's where she stays for what Rachel thinks is an excruciating amount of time. The coarse cotton of Quinn's costume feels tortorous where it touches her naked skin and she's been craving some serious skin-on-skin contact ever since Quinn looked like she wanted to eat her when she won all the poker games earlier in the evening. But now this feeling is only intensified due to the alcohol flowing through her system and good grief, why won't Quinn move or at least take off her shirt?

Rachel squirms beneath her girlfriend and reaches down to tug at the hem of the shirt, only to be stopped by Quinn's hands on both of her wrists, pulling them upwards again and pinning them down above Rachel's head with her right hand, the other one slowly gliding down her right arm until she feels the red paint of the markings that are slightly raised against the skin. Rachel can feel Quinn smirk against her skin before her girlfriend whispers in her ear.

"Patience is a virtue, dear, did no one in your tribe ever teach you that?"

Rachel wants to roll her eyes or at least frown at her, because, really, isn't it enough that she's buzzed and lying almost helpless and naked underneath her girlfriend already, now she has to roleplay, too?

"Quinn, come on," she whines, arching her back up to get more contact than what Quinn is currently offering her. Alas, as if she has predicted her movements, the girl above her pulls away a bit. Rachel huffs. Normally she's above begging so early in their trysts, but somehow it feels like the foreplay lasted for hours.

Ever since Quinn joined the party. With every brush of Quinn's fingers against her skin—her shoulders, arms, even her legs—whether done consciously or unconsciously by her girlfriend, with every sip of the pretty red cocktails Santana handed her, Rachel was left wanting more.

Wanting to rid Quinn of her costume as soon as possible, wanting to hover above her, wanting to run her hands all over her girlfriend's soft skin, wanting to feel the firm muscles underneath it move as she kisses Quinn senseless, wanting to feel the smooth skin getting warmer with every seemlingy careless brush of Rachel's hands against Quinn's sides, wanting to hear her moan, wanting to feel the muscles of Quinn's lower stomach quiver as Rachel let's her hand slowly glide lower to—damnit, why won't Quinn just _move_?

Rachel pouts. Quinn's kneeling position between her legs makes it impossible for Rachel to get some much needed relief.

"Baby, come on. I'm almost naked, wet and wanton underneath you. What more do you need, a written invitation?"

"Where's the gold, Rachel?" Quinn suddenly asks and now Rachel is even more confused.

"What gold?"

"You know, the yellow stuff, comes out of the ground, pretty valuable. The countless treasures your people are so famous for. Tell me and I'll be able to send my people on their way without any bloodshed done," Quinn replies, still trailing soft kisses along her girlfriend's throat, occasionally stopping to nibble at the soft skin.

"There's only one hidden treasure here and it's not gold," Rachel guffaws before she continues, "And I'm not doing this with you here. Either get a move on or I'll do it myself and you won't even be allowed to watch."

Quinn abruptly pulls back and glares down at her.

"Rachel—"

"No."

"Rach—"

"_**No.**_ You're in costume. I'm in ... well, I was in costume. That's all I'm giving you regarding that matter. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Quinn huffs, "Be boring then."

"I'd hardly call our sex life boring," Rachel snorts. "Thanks to you I won't be able to watch most Disney classics with my dads ever again. Come on, don't argue right now. As a compromise, why don't you go all out on the next one? In the privacy of one of our own rooms, and not here, where the possibility of one of our friends overhearing certain things is entirely too high for my liking."

Quinn seemingly ponders the idea before she leans back on her haunches and pulls her shirt off with one fluid and coordinated movement.

"Deal."

Rachel stares at the suddenly revealed skin before her and clenches her fists. Then she notices that to get off her shirt Quinn needed both of her hands so technically she's free to move, but as soon as she sits up and reaches out to touch the glorious skin Quinn already has one hand against her sternum and pushes her back down with a smirk on her lips.

"Patience is still a virtue."

"I've been plenty patient. I've been patient for hours!" Rachel answers indignantly, just short of crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Must you fight me on every little thing?" Quinn sighs.

"You love it," Rachel answers mischievously.

"Yes, most of the time but not all the time."

Rachel pouts but is temporarily mollified when Quinn leans down and kisses it away. She feels a warm hand glide between her back and the bed and moments later her strapless bra is gone. Determinedly Rachel opens the clasp of Quinn's bra and after a bit of maneuvering she throws it in the general direction of the floor.

And things are great now, because, hello, half-naked Quinn right before her eyes and more importantly her _mouth_ but before she can profit from it Quinn's mouth is on her chest and who cares about Quinn's breasts at this point, really.

Rachel sure doesn't.

Quinn is placing soft kisses all over her skin, slowly making her way towards—

Rachel still has the presence of mind to bite her bottom lip as the girl begins to pay much needed attention to her nipple with her tongue to stop a spectacular moan from escaping her lips. After all, some of their friends are sleeping in the rooms next-door and she doesn't want them to hear them. (They'll most likely speculate anyway since there are probably hickeys all over her neck, but she really doesn't want them to have audible proof.)

Meanwhile Quinn is still sucking on her right nipple and battering her tongue against it in regular intervals while her hand caresses the other one. Which is awesome. Everything is awesome right now and Rachel can't believe Quinn wanted to unnecessarily prolong this awesomeness by roleplaying.

Her girlfriend releases her nipple and carefully scoots backwards, giving the other one a short peck before lying down fully, at last, Rachel's heated centre resting against Quinn's stomach.

But it's not like it stays there for long, depriving Rachel from getting some relief by simply grinding against her girlfriend. No. Quinn is steadily slinking away further down until her head is almost where Rachel wants it to be.

And then it is, because Rachel feels Quinn kneel up again and helps her lift her hips up and guides her panties down her legs and moments later Quinn is back in her original position. The hot puffs of air she's emitting against her stoke the fire within Rachel even more and she reaches down, grabbing a handful of blonde hair at the back of Quinn's head and pulls her closer, the command silent but crystal clear.

Her girlfriend complies, hooking both of her arms around Rachel's thighs, one hand resting on her hip, the other on the soft but toned stomach, scratching it lightly. She pulls Rachel nearer and instantly Rachel's eyes snap shut and she slaps her free hand over her own mouth, hoping to muffle the sounds that threaten to split the silence around them with every wipe of Quinn's tongue against her clit, along the length of her. And when Quinn finally pushes her tongue inside Rachel cries out and proceeds to bite the side of her hand instead to keep her sounds at bay.

It doesn't take long for her to come. Firstly because she was embarrassingly close already and secondly because her girlfriend seems to be some kind of prodigy when it comes to getting her off with her mouth.

Rachel doesn't mind at all.

Her hand falls almost lifelessly from her mouth and the other one has lost its firm grip on Quinn, just running her fingers through the hair now.

Her chest is still heaving from the intensity of her orgasm when Quinn pulls herself up and crushes their lips together, leaving Rachel breathless and moaning at the taste of herself on her girlfriend's tongue.

When Rachel feels confident enough that she actually has regained the feeling in her legs she fully intends to flip them over so that she can have some fun with Quinn. But when she squeezes her thighs around Quinn's hovering hips, to pull her closer and roll them over, Quinn surprisingly grinds down and Rachel's mouth falls open in a silent moan.

"Oh god," she gets out through clenched teeth, her arms that are wound around Quinn's back crashing their naked chests forcefully together.

Quinn hums, her face hidden in the crook of Rachel's neck again, trying to leave hickeys everywhere she can reach. With every roll of her hips against Rachel's she can feel her throat bobbing underneath her lips when Rachel swallows and Rachel knows that there'll be a wet spot on the front of Quinn's costume pants as soon as she pulls away..

"Have you been wearing this—have you—Quinn, I'm trying to—dear god," Rachel actually moans this time and Quinn hurries to claim her mouth with her own, stiffling the sound.

"You need to be quiet," Quinn husks between kisses, never stopping the rolling of her hips, "Our friends are sleeping in the other rooms."

"I know," Rachel pants, "And you thought it'd be a good idea to—to bring—"

"I think it's a spectular idea," Quinn grins down at her, looking like the cat that ate the canary. She stops their grinding however to give her girlfriend the chance to speak.

Rachel takes deep breaths, trying to regain her senses. Quinn's hips, still nestled firmly against her own, but thankfully not moving, don't make the task any easier though.

"Have you been wearing this ever since you came to the party?"

Quinn shakes her her head, shifting a bit to rest her weight on her forearms on both sides of Rachel's head instead of her hands.

"No. I had it in my bag and put it on after we all started to take a few shots and I was still coordinated enough to work out the mechanics. It was the only way to make sure Santana and Britt wouldn't notice it over the course of the party. And you were way too preoccupied winning the poker game afterwards to notice. As was the rest of the club. And then of course everyone was preoccupied with the alcohol."

"And you thought it'd be a good idea to bring this to a glee club party? What if somebody had noticed something?"

Rachel's breath hitches when Quinn slowly begins to grind their hips together again.

"Nobody noticed. And I still think it's a capital idea."

Any protest Rachel could probably have dies in her throat as soon as Quinn's lips are on her own again, their bare chests rubbing together and their hips continuing to grind together powerfully.

Well, if you can't defeat them, join them.

Rachel moves her hands down and works at Quinn's belt, opening it and tugging the loose pants of the costume down as good as she can from that position. But then she encounters another obstacle.

"What's that?" She grumbles against Quinn's lips.

"My cheerios spankies," Quinn mumbles back. "Without them it would've been too obvious."

"Oh my god, did you practice how to hide it at home in front of a mirror?"

"Maybe," she smirks.

"Take it off," Rachel demands, snapping the waistband of the spanks impatiently. "Take it all off."

Quinn pulls away and raises one eyebrow. "All of it?"

Rachel rolls her eyes and pushes her girlfriend away to speed this along. "Quinn."

"Right, just joking."

Quinn rolls to the side and then stands next to the bed, taking off her black boots—and now is the first time Rachel notices that she is still wearing her 'not part of the costume but I refuse to go barefoot' moccasins, too, but Quinn is already taking care of those, letting them fall on the floor right next to her boots with a thump—and then she's pushing down the navy blue pants of her costume as well as her fire-red spanks and Rachel can't bring herself to look into Quinn's eyes anymore.

It's not like she's seeing it for the first time. They bought it together, for heaven's sake, after blushing and giggling their way through various online shops, comparing prices, styles, colours, discussing _sizes_ and finally deciding on one.

It's not like they're using it for the first time, either. Rachel knows exactly what Quinn is going to work with here and yet she can't bring herself to tear her eyes away.

It's green and moderately sized, because they wanted a colour that was decidedly not lifelike—also "Pink goes good with green," Rachel declared, prompting Quinn to ask what pink thing she planned on buying. Rachel's smirk spelled trouble and Quinn should've known better because when Rachel whispered "You're pink. On the inside. And that's where it'll be going," in her ear they only got around to clicking the 'buy' button two hours later—and a size that didn't have them both running to the hills in fear, and the knowledge that Quinn wore it for the better part of the evening, undetected, has Rachel instantly gushing between her thighs.

Quinn takes a step forward and the movement makes the strap-on bob up and down a bit, prompting Rachel to bite her bottom lip. When Quinn rests one knee on the mattress Rachel finally drags her eyes up to her face, her teeth still holding her lip captive.

"What's wrong?" She asks timidly. "We did this before."

Rachel shakes her head. "That's not it," she says, pulling Quinn closer by her hand and helping her settle comfortably on top of her, her forearms resting on both sides of her head once again. She wraps her arms around Quinn's back and kisses her, trying to ease her girlfriend's sudden anxiety. They slowly rock together, the strap-on gliding through her folds, coating it with her wetness and bumping against her over-sensitive clit every once in a while.

Rachel knows that with Quinn wearing the strap-on for the last few hours, in hope of this happening, and their earlier activities she probably won't need much to be pushed towards her own orgasm. Rachel herself feels like she's already halfway to her next one once she discovered what Quinn was wearing underneath the costume.

So, when she plants her feet on the comforter and reaches down between them with one hand to align the strap-on, she pulls Quinn's head next to her own with the other and whispers into her girlfriend's ear.

"I know that it isn't necessary for both of us since you can make me wet with just a look, but one day I'd really like to—"

The '_blow you_' is drowned out by Quinn's long groan in the crook of her neck at the images that are now in her mind. She rolls her hips forward and the sudden but definitely welcomed intrusion makes Rachel moan in return.

They stay like that for a moment, letting Rachel adjust, before Quinn pull her hips back and Rachel can almost feel the strap-on leave her body before her girlfriend pushes back in again. They establish a rhythm shortly after, with Rachel's hips rising up to meet Quinn's every time she pushes back in, her feet on the mattress giving her some additional leverage and helping her to spread her legs wider apart. One of Rachel's hands is on the back of Quinn's head, scratching her scalp and grabbing on to her hair whenever Quinn takes a break from the kissing and decides to almost maul the sensitive skin at her neck. The other one is on Quinn's ass, pushing down whenever their hips meet.

Rachel can barely hear anything else over the blood rushing in her ears and her girlfriend's whimpers but she knows that the distant sloshing sound she hears is exact proof of how much her girlfriend turns her on.

Rachel was right by assuming that they won't last long, because she _knows_ that with every downward thrust and the added resistence of herself the insert brushes against Quinn's clit all the time, bringing her to her orgasm fast.

Quinn comes with a soft mewl after a few more hard thrusts and barely refrains from completely smothering Rachel underneath her. Instead she manages to settle softly on top of her, her breath still ragged. She's panting, trying to regain oxygen and her normal heartbeat and the puffs of air make Rachel shiver every time they hit her sweaty skin.

Which is all fine and dandy, really, hurray for Quinn, but Rachel hasn't come yet and she's still standing at the precipice. So close, yet so far.

"Baby," she rasps. Quinn grunts in lieu of an answer. "Quinn, I haven't—please, just a bit more—"

It takes a few seconds for Quinn to move again, to muster up the strength, and when she does it's only her hips, barely even pulling away from Rachel. But it feels glorious and it's enough and when Rachel let's her own hand slide sideways from Quinn's ass between them to rub at her clit she comes after a few more semi-thrusts.

They're both panting and Rachel settles her legs around Quinn's, fully craddling her hips between her thighs. When Quinn moves to pull away she squeezes her legs and wraps both her arms around her back.

"Stay," she mumbles, her eyes closed.

Quinn hums an affirmative and stays, her face comfortably resting in the crook of Rachel's neck.

Rachel feels herself slowly drift to sleep shortly after, but she still manages to catch Quinn's low murmur and her lips moving against her skin.

"What was that?"

"I hereby claim this land in the name of the Republic of Quinn."

"Don't push it."


End file.
